"Good morning, Bradford," said Sam, eyeing our hero curiously.

"Are you going to work in the mill?"

"No," said Ben shortly.

"Perhaps old Taylor will give you employment."

"No doubt he would if he had occasion to employ any one. Mr.

Taylor is a gentleman."

"Do you mean to say father isn't a gentleman?"

"You can draw your own conclusions."

Ben was not quite an angel, though he was a manly boy, and he felt pugnacious.

"I've a great mind to knock you down," said Sam.

"You may have the mind, but you haven't got the strength to do it,"

said Ben.

"I won't dirty my hands with touching you."

"That's prudent, at any rate," retorted Ben.

"You'd better go home and read your prize."

"That's good advice, though it comes from a bad source," returned Ben. "It isn't needed, however, for I have been reading it. I can quote two lines--

"'Be not like dumb, driven cattle, Be like heroes in the strife.'"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that you will find it hard to drive me."

"Perhaps so, but I've done one thing," boasted Sam.

"What's that?"

"I told father not to take you if you applied; and that's why you are going away with a flea in your ear."

"I am not surprised to hear this," he answered. "Indeed, I am very glad to hear it."

"You are glad to hear it?" repeated Sam, puzzled.

"Yes."

"I don't understand why you should be."

"I suppose not. I am glad you know just why I was refused."

"Well, I hope you are satisfied."

"I am entirely so."

"I wonder what the fellow means," thought Sam.

Chapter XXIII

The Decoy Letter

Sam knew that Ben was anxious to obtain a situation. It occurred to him that it would be a splendid joke to write to Ben, in the name of some Boston firm, offering him a situation. Ben would go up to the city, of course, only to find that he had been "sold."

Of course, it would not do for Sam to write the letter himself, since his writing was well known to Ben. Again, the letter must be posted in Boston. However, where there is a will there is a way. Sam was acquainted with a boy who lived in Boston--Frank Ferguson--and to him he wrote, enclosing the draft of a letter, which he requested Frank to copy and mail to Ben. "It is only a practical joke," Sam explained in his letter, "in return for one Ben has played on me." But for this explanation, Frank who was an honorable boy, would not have lent himself to this scheme. As it was, it struck him only as a piece of fun, and he followed Sam's instructions.

A few days later, Ben, in going to the post-office, received a letter directed to himself. It read thus:

"BENJAMIN BRADFORD: We are in want of a boy in our store.

You can have the place if you wish. It will be necessary for you to report for duty next Monday.

"Yours, in haste, "JONES & PORTER"

Ben had heard of Jones & Porter. They were well-known booksellers and publishers. A position with them was certainly desirable.

"But how could they have heard of me," thought Ben.

He was not vain enough to suppose that his name was well known in Boston, yet here was an important firm that had offered him employment. Again, the manner in which the letter ended struck him as rather singular. It didn't occur to Ben to doubt its genuineness.

As he was walking back, he met James Watson.

"What's the news, Ben?" asked James.

"I am offered a place in Boston," answered Ben.

"You don't say so! What sort of place is it?"

"It is a place in a bookstore. There is the letter."

James read it.

"How did they happen to write to you."

"I don't know, I am sure."

"Can't you think of any way in which they could have heard of you?"