Do and Dare — a Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune. Alger Horatio Jr.

hotel to meet his new employer. He found him occupying a large and pleasant room on the second floor. The table near the window was covered with books, and there were some thirty or forty volumes arranged on shelves.

      “I always bring books with me, Herbert,” said the young man. “I am very fond of reading, and hitherto I have occupied too much time, perhaps, in that way—too much, because it has interfered with necessary exercise. Hereafter I shall devote my forenoon to some kind of outdoor exercise in your company, and in the afternoon you can read to me, or we can converse.”

      “Shall I read to you now, Mr. Melville?” asked Herbert.

      “Yes; here is a recent magazine. I will select an article for you to read. It will rest my eyes, and besides it is pleasanter to have a companion than to read one’s self.”

      The article was one that interested Herbert as well as Mr. Melville, and he was surprised when he had finished to find that it was nearly five o’clock.

      “Didn’t the reading tire you, Herbert?” asked Melville.

      “No, sir; not at all.”

      “It is evident that your lungs are stronger than mine.”

      At five o’clock Melville dismissed his young companion.

      “Do you wish me to come this evening?” asked Herbert.

      “Oh, no. I wouldn’t think of taking up your evenings.”

      “At the post office I had to stay till eight o’clock.”

      “Probably it was necessary there; I won’t task you so much.”

      “When shall I come to-morrow?”

      “At nine o’clock.”

      “That isn’t very early,” said Herbert, smiling.

      “No, I don’t get up very early. My health won’t allow me to cultivate early rising. I shall not be through breakfast much before nine.”

      “I see you don’t mean to overwork me, Mr. Melville.”

      “No, for it would involve overworking myself.”

      “I shall certainly have an easy time,” thought Herbert, as he walked homeward.

      He reflected with satisfaction that he was being paid at the rate of a dollar a day, which was quite beyond anything he had ever before earned. Indeed, to-day he had earned sixty cents besides. The sum received for the fish.

      After supper Herbert went to the store to purchase some articles for his mother. He was waited on by Mr. Graham in person. As the articles called for would amount to nearly one dollar, the storekeeper said, cautiously: “Of course, you are prepared to pay cash?”

      “Certainly, sir,” returned Herbert.

      “I mentioned it because I knew your income was small,” said Ebenezer, apologetically.

      “It is more than it was last week,” said Herbert, rather enjoying the prospect of surprising the storekeeper.

      “Why, you ain’t found anything to do, have you?” asked Mr. Graham, his face indicating curiosity.

      “Yes, sir; I am engaged as companion by Mr. Melville, who is staying at the hotel.”

      “I don’t know what he wants of a companion,” said the storekeeper, with that disposition to criticise the affairs of his neighbors often found in country places.

      “He thinks he needs one,” answered Herbert.

      “And how much does he pay you now?” queried Ebenezer.

      “Six dollars a week.”

      “You don’t mean it!” ejaculated the storekeeper. “Why, the man must be crazy!”

      “I don’t think he is,” said Herbert, smiling.

      “Got plenty of money, I take it?” continued Ebenezer, who had a good share of curiosity.

      “Yes; he tells me he is rich.”

      “How much money has he got?”

      “He didn’t tell me that.”

      “Well, I declare! You’re lucky, that’s a fact!”

      There was an interested listener to this conversation in the person of Eben, who had been in the store all day, taking Herbert’s place. As we know, the position by no means suited the young man. He had been employed in a store in Boston, and to come back to a small country grocery might certainly be considered a descent. Besides, the small compensation allowed him was far from satisfying Eben.

      He was even more dissatisfied when he learned how fortunate Herbert was. To be selected as a companion by a rich young man was just what he would have liked himself, and he flattered himself that he should make a more desirable companion than a mere boy like Herbert.

      As our hero was leaving the store, Eben called him back.

      “What was that you were telling father about going round with a young man from the city?” he asked.

      Herbert repeated it.

      “And he pays you six dollars a week?” asked Eben, enviously.

      “Yes; of course, I shouldn’t have asked so much, but he fixed the price himself.”

      “You think he is very rich?” said Eben, thoughtfully.

      “Yes, I think so.”

      “What a splendid chance it would be for me!” thought Eben. “If I could get intimate with a man like that, he might set me up in business some day; perhaps take me to Europe, or round the world!” “How much of the time do you expect to be with this Mr. Melville?” he asked.

      Herbert answered the question.

      “Does he seem like a man easy to get along with?”

      “Very much so.”

      Eben inwardly decided that, if he could, he would oust Herbert from his desirable place, and substitute himself. It was a very mean thought, but Eben inherited meanness from his father.

      “Herbert,” he said, “will you do me a favor?”

      “What is it?” asked our hero.

      “Will you take my place in the store this evening? I am not feeling well, and want to take a walk.”

      “Yes,” answered Herbert, “as soon as I have run home to tell mother where I am.”

      “That’s a good fellow. You shan’t lose anything by it. I’ll give you ten cents.”

      “You needn’t pay me anything, Eben. I’ll do it as a favor.”

      “You’re a trump, Herbert. Come back as soon as you can.”

      When Eben was released from the store, he went over to the hotel, and inquired for Mr. Melville, leaving his unsuspecting young substitute in the post office.

      CHAPTER VIII. EBEN’S ASSURANCE

      “A young man wishes to see you, Mr. Melville,” said the servant.

      George Melville looked up in some surprise from his book, and said: “You may show him up.”

      “It must be Herbert,” he thought.

      But when the door was opened, and the visitor shown in, Mr. Melville found it was an older person than Herbert. Eben, for it was he, distorted his mean features into what he regarded as a pleasant smile, and, without waiting to receive a welcome, came forward with extended hand.

      “I believe you are Mr. Melville,” he said, inquiringly.

      “Yes, that