"Thank you," said the boy in a tone of satisfaction, for his weekly income was small.
Andy opened the letter. It was written on fashionable note paper. At the top of the paper was a monogram formed of the letters H and M.
Here is the letter:
"MY DEAR MR. GRANT: I shall be glad to have you take dinner with me at seven o'clock. I should have given you earlier notice, but supposed you would not be back from the store till six o'clock. You will meet my son Roy, who is a year or two younger than yourself, and my brother, John Crawford. Both will be glad to see you. Yours sincerely,
"HENRIETTA MASON."
"What is it, Andy?" asked Sam.
"You can read the note."
"By George, Andy, you are getting into fashionable society! Couldn't you take me along, too?"
"I am afraid I am not well enough acquainted to take such a liberty."
"I'll tell you what I'll do for you. I'll lend you my best necktie."
Sam produced a gorgeous red tie, which he held up admiringly.
"Thank you, Sam," said Andy, "but I think that won't suit me as well as you."
"What are you going to wear?"
Andy took from the bureau drawer a plain black tie.
"That!" exclaimed Sam, disgusted. "That is awfully plain."
"It suits my taste."
"Excuse me, Andy, but I don't think you've got any taste."
Andy laughed good-naturedly.
"Certainly my taste differs from yours," he said.
"I suppose you'll have a fine layout. I'd like to go to a fashionable dinner myself."
"I'll tell you all about it when I get back."
"Just mention that you've got a friend--a stylish young man whom they'd like to meet. That may bring me an invitation next time."
Andy laughed.
"So far as I am concerned, Sam," he said, "I wish you were going. But you have an engagement at the Star Theater."
"So I have. I almost forgot."
Andy had very little time for preparation, but made what haste he could, and just as the public clocks struck seven he rang the bell of Mrs.
Mason's house.
"I am glad you received my invitation in time," said the lady.
"So am I," returned Andy; "nothing could have been more welcome."
Just then Roy and her brother, Mr. Crawford, entered.
Roy was a very pleasant-looking boy, with dark-brown hair and a dark complexion. He was perhaps two inches shorter than Andy.
"This is Roy," said Mrs. Mason.
"I am glad to see you," said Roy, offering his hand.
Andy felt that he should like his new boy friend.
Next he was introduced to Mr. Crawford, a stout gentleman of perhaps forty, looking very much like his sister.
"I have heard my sister speak of you so often that I am glad to meet you, Andy," he said, affably.
"Thank you, sir."
"John, lead the way to the dining room," said his sister.
So they filed downstairs, and took their seats at the table.
Mr. Crawford sat at the head, opposite his sister, while Roy and Andy occupied the sides.
When dinner was nearly over, Mr. Crawford remarked:
"I believe, Andy, you are in the employ of Mr. Flint, the jeweler."
"I was," answered Andy.
"Surely you have not left him?" exclaimed Mrs. Mason.
"No, I have been discharged."
"I am surprised to hear it. I thought you were a favorite with Mr.
Flint."
"So I was. He does not know I have been discharged."
"You puzzle me."
"Mr. Flint is in Colorado, and Mr. Rich, his head salesman, has taken the opportunity to discharge me, and put his nephew in my place."
"But surely he would not venture to do this without some pretext."