Benson."
"You?" he said.
"I am very sorry," I stammered, blushing, "but I heard what you were
saying. I did not mean to listen. I thought you knew that I was there."
"It is of no importance," he said, turning away; "I have no secrets."
But I detained him.
"Mr. Benson! Tell me, please. You _were_ talking about me, weren't you?
What did you mean about the son of the house not being a servant for
ever?"
He hesitated for an instant, and then turned round and came nearer to
me.
"It is true, is it not?" he said. "Next year you may be clerk. In time
you may be your uncle's confidential clerk, which I should like to be
myself. You may eventually be partner, as I should like to be; and in
the long run you may succeed him, as I should like to do. It is a good
business, my dear, a sound business, a business of which much, very
much, more might be made. You might die rich, very rich. You might be
mayor, you might be Member, you might--but what is the use? _You will
not._ You do not see it, though I am telling you. You will not wait for
it, though it would come. What is that book you hid when I came in?"
"It is about North American Indians," said I, dragging it forth.
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