"Is he to live with you, then?"
"Yes, sir. He wants work—that is"—Jamie hesitated.
"He has no occupation?"
Jamie was visibly irritated. "If I bring the gentleman down, ye may ask him your ain sel'."
"No, no," said Mr. James. "That is, we should, of course, be glad to meet the gentleman at any time. What is his name?"
"David St. Clair."
"David Sinclair," repeated the old gentleman.
"Mercedes Silva," said Mr. James musingly.
"McMurtagh, if you please," said Jamie.
"Jamie," said old Mr. Bowdoin, "our business is going away. The steamers will ruin it. For a long time there has not been enough to occupy a man of your talents. And the old bookkeeper at the bank—the Old Colony Bank—has got to resign. I've already asked the place for you. The salary is—more than we here can afford to pay you. In fact, we may close the counting-room."
Jamie rubbed his nose and shifted his feet.
