Horatio Alger

“ The youth indicated a small room partitioned off as a private office in the extreme end of the store.
"Thank you," said Phil, and proceeded to find his way to the office in question.
Arrived at the door, which was partly open, he looked in.
In an arm-chair sat a small man, with an erect figure and an air of consequence. He was not over forty-five, but looked older, for his cheeks were already seamed and his look was querulous. Cheerful natures do not so soon show signs of age as their opposites.
"Mr. Pitkin?" said Phil interrogatively. ”

“ PHIL paused before an imposing business structure, and looked up to see if he could see the sign that would show him he had reached his destination.
He had not far to look. On the front of the building he saw in large letters the sign:
ENOCH PITKIN & CO. In the door-way there was another sign, from which he learned that the firm occupied the second floor.
He went up-stairs, and opening a door, entered a spacious apartment which looked like a hive of industry. There were numerous clerks, counters piled with goods, and every indication that a prosperous business was being carried on. ”