Sparling
walked from the tent, not speaking again until they had reached
the manager's private tent. This was a larger and much more
commodious affair than it had been last year.
He placed Phil in a folding easy chair, and sat down to his desk
where he began writing.
After finishing, Mr. Sparling looked up.
"Phil," he said in a more kindly tone than the lad had ever
before heard him use, "I was under a deep obligation to you
last season. I'm under a greater one now."
"I wish you wouldn't speak of it, sir. What I have done is
purely in the line of duty. It's a fellow's business to be
looking out for his employer's interests. That's what I have
always tried to do."
"Not only tried, but have," corrected Mr. Sparling. "That's an
old-fashioned idea of yours. It's a pity young men don't feel
more that way, these days. But that wasn't what I wanted to say.
As a little expression of how much I appreciate your interest,
as well as the actual money loss you have saved me, I want to
make you a little present."
"Oh, no no," protested Phil.
"Here is a check which I have made out for a hundred dollars.
That will give you a little start on the season. But it isn't
all that I am going to do for you--"
"Please, Mr.
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