William soon found himself in quite altered circumstances; the stir and
bustle of the streets was very unlike the quiet of his village home;
then the tall stores, loft upon loft, piled with goods--boxes and bales
now, instead of books and bat; the strange faces of the clerks, and the
easy manners and handsome appearance of the rich boy, Ashton, just above
him in the store,--all these contributed not a little to his sense of
the newness and strangeness of his position.
William looked at Ashton almost with admiration, and thought how new and
awkward everything was to himself, and how tired he got standing so many
hours on duty, and crowding his way through the busy thoroughfares. But
his good habits soon made him many friends. The older clerks liked his
obliging and active spirit, and all had a good word for his punctuality.
But William had his trials. One morning he was sent to the bank for
money; and returning, laid the pile on the counting room desk. His
master was gone, and there was no one in the room but Ashton. Mr. Thomas
soon came back.
"Two dollars are missing," said he, counting the money.
The blood mounted to poor William's face, but he answered firmly:--
"I laid it all on your desk, sir."
Mr. Thomas looked steadily into the boy's face, and seeing nothing but
an honest purpose there, said, "Another time put the money into my
hands, my boy.
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