yet; but don't say anything to mother about your meeting me here, or she may be worried. I shall make every effort to get something to do here. If I can't, I may be obliged to go home."
"Well, Ben, I wish you good luck. I must now leave you, as I have several business calls to make."
Ben emerged from the station-house feeling that he had made a lucky escape. The boys who had followed him (Mike and his friends) had vanished, on finding that things did not turn out as they expected, fearing that they might get into trouble themselves.
"I see," said Ben to himself, "that I must keep my eyes wide open in New York. I used to think that an innocent person need not fear the police, but I don't find it exactly so."
He strolled back to Broadway, and mingled once more with the busy crowds. The same thought came to him, as to so many in his position, "Everybody seems to have something to do except me. Why am I alone idle?"
When Ben reached the Metropolitan Hotel he paused for a moment at the entrance. As he stood there a gentleman passed out hurriedly. As his eyes fell upon Ben his face lighted up, and a sudden plan presented itself to his mind.
"Boy," he said, "do you live in New York?"
"I expect to, if I can find anything to do."
"Where do you come from?"
"Sunderland."
"Where is that?"
"In Connecticut."
"How far away is it?"
"About forty miles."
"What relatives have you living?"
"A mother and sister in the country."
As the gentleman did not inquire whether he had relatives in New York, Ben did not see fit to volunteer information, particularly as he did not care to claim relationship with an uncle and cousin who were evidently ashamed of him.
"You are in search of a position, are you?" asked the gentleman.
"Yes, sir."
"And you are not particular what you do?"
"No, sir, as long as it is honest."
"Yes, I think he will do," soliloquized the gentleman, regarding Ben intently. "He is the same size and shape, and has a similar expression. It will be easy to mistake him for Philip."
Ben only caught part of this soliloquy, and of course he did not understand it.
"Of course, of course," said the gentleman, hastily, answering Ben's words after a while. "Well, I think I can give you something to do. Do you write a fair hand?"
"Yes, sir, pretty fair."
"Come up stairs with me," said the gentleman, abruptly. "I am staying at this hotel."
"Is it safe?" thought Ben; but the thought that he was a poor boy, and was little likely to attract the attention of adventurers, reassured him, and without hesitation he followed his new, and, as it appeared, rather eccentric acquaintance.
They took the elevator and got out at the fourth landing.
His new friend nodded, and Ben followed him along the hall.
The gentleman drew a key from his pocket and opened the door of a room near at hand.
"Come in," he said.
The room was a double one, consisting of a parlor and bedchamber. There were two trunks in the bedroom.
"Sit down," said the gentleman.
Ben seated himself.
"What is your name?"
"Benjamin Baker."
"I engage you as my private secretary."
"Do you think I will suit?" asked Ben, considerably amazed.
"You won't have much to do," was the answer. "You are also to pass for my nephew."
"I wonder whether I am awake or dreaming," he asked himself.
"I shall call you Philip Grafton," continued the stranger.
"Why can't I keep my own name?" asked Ben, uneasily.
"It is unnecessary to state. My secretary must be Philip Grafton," said the gentleman, firmly. "Don't you like the name?"
"Yes, sir; it is a good name. Many would prefer it to mine, but I don't like to sail under false colors."
"It is a whim of mine," said the gentleman, "but I don't think you will be sorry for acceding to it. Now, as to compensation, I propose to pay you fifty dollars a month and board – that is, of course, you will live with me."
"Fifty dollars a month!" repeated Ben, opening his eyes in amazement.
"Yes; isn't it satisfactory?"
"I don't see how I can possibly earn fifty dollars a month."
"That is my lookout. As long as I am satisfied, you needn't worry about that."
"I am afraid you will be disappointed in me, sir."
"I hope not. Do as I tell you, and I shall be satisfied."
"When am I to go to work?" asked Ben.
"You will enter upon your duties at once. I suppose you have no objection?"
"Am I to live at the hotel with you, sir?"
"Yes."
"Then I will go and get my clothes."
"Ah, yes; I didn't think of that. You won't need to get them."
"Won't need to get my clothes?" repeated Ben in amazement.
He began to think his employer was out of his head.
"I have clothes for you here – in that trunk. This key fits it. Open it."
Wondering much, Ben took the key, and, fitting it in the lock of the smaller trunk, lifted the lid. He found it full of shirts, under-garments, handkerchiefs, etc., of fine texture.
"You will find underneath two suits of clothes," said his employer. "Take them out."
Ben followed directions.
"Now take off your own clothes – all of them – and dress yourself from the contents of the trunk."
Ben hesitated. He could not at all understand what was happening to him.
"Of course," said the gentleman, "your present clothing won't do for my private secretary. The contents of this trunk are yours, if the clothes fit you."
Ben proceeded to remove his clothing, and in a few minutes he was newly rigged from top to toe. Every article fitted admirably.
"Now look at yourself in the mirror," said the gentleman, evidently pleased with the transformation.
Ben
