Mr. Martin read them carefully.
"It seems to be all right," he said, as he handed back the paper. "If
I thought you would answer my purpose I would look you up."
"Then you need help?" asked Richard, quickly, glad to think he had
struck an opening with so little trouble.
"Yes, I do. My son James who helps me is sick in Philadelphia, and
consequently I have only the errand boy to relieve me. It is too much
for me and I must get a clerk."
"I would like you to try me," said Richard eagerly. "I would do my
best to suit, even if the place was only a temporary one."
"It might be permanent. The business is growing. But of course when
my son came back I could not pay a clerk so much."
"How much would you pay now?"
"How much do you expect?" asked Mr. Martin cautiously.
"I was getting eight dollars a week at my last place."
"I would be willing to pay that. But I want some one who is trustworthy
and willing to learn. Have you other recommendations?"
"I can refer you to Mr. Timothy Joyce," replied Richard; and he wrote
down the leather merchant's name and address on a bit of wrapping
paper.
Mr. Martin looked at the neat handwriting.
"Come round to-morrow morning this time," he said. "I will look up the
references this afternoon and if I find them satisfactory you can come
to work at once.
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