early monday morning gerald went over to mr. tubbs's grocery store and reported for duty. the grocer gave him some instructions as to the prices of leading commodities, and he took his place behind the counter. there was a young man of twenty-one in the grocer's employ—a cousin of mrs. tubbs's, named charles brandon. he was rather an unattractive-looking young man, with a pimply face, and small eyes with a shifting expression. gerald already knew him slightly, but did not like him. twice he had seen him under the influence of liquor and knew that he frequented a billiard-room in the village patronized by a low class of young men.

"so we are going to be fellow-clerks, eh?" said brandon, with a disagreeable smile.

"i suppose so."

"i always looked upon you as one of the tip-tops! i never thought you would be willing to become a boy in a grocery!"

"i am not willing."

"then why did you come?"

"i am not my own master. mrs. lane, my stepmother, made the arrangement with mr. tubbs."

"i expect you feel above it?"

"i don't say that, but it's not to my taste."

"how much will you get?"

gerald had no objection to tell, and answered, quietly: "three dollars a week."

"that ain't much. i get six and my board. you know, i board with mr. tubbs. i'm a cousin of mrs. tubbs."

"do you like it?"

"no; i have too much looking after. when a man is my age, he doesn't want to be interfered with."

"no one likes to be interfered with."

"just so. i see you and i will get along first-rate."

as the morning advanced gerald found himself quite busy. it was awkward at first to weigh butter and sugar and other articles that were called for, but he was quick, and soon "got the hang" of his new duties.

early in the afternoon he was introduced to the books of the concern, and found them in a mixed-up state, as neither mr. tubbs nor his chief salesman knew anything about book-keeping. he suggested to the grocer to buy a new set of books, which he agreed to do.

about supper time his friend john holman came into the store, and gerald weighed out for him two pounds of sugar.

"it seems odd to see you behind the counter, gerald," he said.

"it seems so to me."

"how do you like it?"

"i don't like it very well, but i have hardly been here long enough to judge."

"it's a shame that you should fill such a position with all your book learning."

gerald smiled.

"i shan't have much use for my french and latin here," he said. "suppose i make them over to you!"

"they wouldn't help me in pegging shoes, gerald. but never mind; the time will come when you will find them useful. you won't stay here all your life."

"i certainly hope not."

just then abel entered the store.

he looked about him till he saw gerald and a smile lighted up his face.

"ma wants you to bring home four pounds of butter when you come to supper," he said. "here's a tin pail to put it in."

"why don't you take it yourself?" asked john.

"because i don't choose to," answered abel, superciliously.

"i will take it," said gerald, quietly.

at this moment the grocer came round to where he was standing.

"you can go to supper, gerald," he said.

gerald put up the butter, and went out with john holman.

"how can you stand abel's insolence?" asked john, hotly.

"because i despise him. he is only acting according to his nature. he is what the english call a cad."

"he thinks himself superior to you."

"he is probably alone in that opinion, and i don't mind what he thinks."

in the evening, when the store closed, brandon said to him:

"come round to the billiard-room and play a game with me, gerald."

"thank you, but i don't play billiards."

"i will teach you. you will learn easily."

"how much does it cost?"

"twenty-five cents a game."

"my salary is so small that i can't afford it."

"well, come in at any rate and see the playing."

to this gerald assented. he had never entered the room and had some curiosity to see it. accordingly he went in and found a collection of village roughs. brandon entered a game then being played, and gerald sat down and looked on.

at one end of the room was a bar, to which the players adjourned at intervals.

"won't you have something, gerald?" asked brandon, whose turn came to treat at the end of the first game.

"no, thank you."

"i won't tell your ma," said his fellow-clerk, with a smile.

"i am not sure that she would care, but i would rather not drink."

"i see you haven't graduated from sunday school," said brandon, with a little sneer.

gerald did not answer, nor did he heed the sneer.

he observed that when brandon paid for the drinks and the game in which he was a loser, he handed the bartender a five-dollar bill and thrust the change carelessly into his vest-pocket with the air of a millionaire. considering the moderate pay he received, gerald was surprised at the freedom with which he spent his money.

at the end of half an hour he left the billiard-room and went home.

mrs. lane and abel were still up.

"here comes the young grocer!" said abel, with a malicious smile.

"are you just out of the store?" asked mrs. lane.

"no. i walked awhile with mr. brandon, the head clerk."

"how do you like it as far as you've got?" asked abel.

"i don't like it."

"i suppose you would rather be at school."

"i certainly should."

"yes; it would be easier."

"that is not my reason."

"what is your reason?"

"i think i am wasting my time in a grocery store."

"you get paid for it, don't you?"

"yes; i shall be paid a small sum."

"abel," said his mother, "i don't care to have you talk with gerald on this subject. as he goes on he will get contented and will see that i have planned for the best. now, as it is near ten o'clock, we may as well go to bed."

the next morning gerald rose earlier than the rest of the family and breakfasted by himself. it was a comfort to him to occupy his own bedchamber. abel had been so thoroughly frightened by the visit of the burglar that he absolutely refused to occupy the large room, though urged to do so by his mother, who did not like to think that he was less luxuriously provided for than gerald.

"well, how did you make out, mr. brandon?" asked gerald, of his fellow-clerk.

"i had bad luck. i spent over two dollars last evening."

"it wouldn't do for me to spend so much. i only receive three dollars a week."

"i couldn't get along without the billiard-room. after standing all day in this dull store i need a little recreation."

gerald could not understand how brandon could afford to spend so much money in the evening, or how he could have anything left for clothing and necessary expenses.

during the day he overheard a conversation between mr. tubbs and a neighbor.

"how is business, tubbs?" asked the latter.

"i seem to do a good business," answered the grocer, "yet, i don't know how it is, i find it very hard to meet my bills as they come due."

"you are looked upon as a driving man."

"i ought to be, but it is as i told you. i can't understand it. there have been times when i did less business and made more money."

"perhaps you don't make as large profits?"

"yes, i do. i sell at the same prices, and i don't pay any more for goods."

gerald thought over this problem, and it puzzled him too. it set him to examining the books which were under his charge. the result was very favorable to the business. from the books, it should have paid well.

but the next day a startling light was thrown upon the mystery.

gerald saw brandon go to the money-drawer to deposit fifty cents, which he had received in payment for some groceries. he did deposit it, but at the same time he slyly drew out a bill which he carried away with him.

"that explains it!" thought gerald, drawing a deep breath. "what ought i to do?"