SCENE IV.—_A small office. SAMUEL JENKINS sits R., in a

lounging attitude, smoking a cigar. A knock is heard L. He jumps up hastily, and admits JONATHAN._

J. (_bashfully_). Be you Mr. Jenkins?

SAM. (_bowing_). I am, at your service.

J. I seen the advertisement what you writ in the papers, about wanting a partner,—

S. J. With a small capital?

J. Yes, with a small capital, and I thought I’d call and see if you’d take me.

S. J. (_aside_). The fellow’s just from the country. I must impress him a little. I wonder how much money he’s got. (_Aloud._) Well, as to that, I can’t say, positively. I must ask you a few questions. Have you lived in the city long?

J. Wal, no, I live to Beanville, when I’m ter hum.

S. J. (_reflectively_). Beanville! I don’t think I ever heard of the place.

J. Sho! I thought everybody’d heard of Beanville.

S. J. Then I suppose you have never been in business.

J. (_hesitatingly_). Wall, no, not exactly; but I tended in our store two days when the other feller was gone.

S. J. That is nothing;—but perhaps you could learn.

J. (_eagerly_). Oh, yes, I kin learn pooty quick, ef you’ll only try me.

S. J. Then about the capital. How much money have you got?

J. I hed two hundred and fifty dollars when I left hum, but I guess I’ll have to leave some to pay my board. I kin invest two hundred and twenty-five dollars.

S. J. (_aside_). That isn’t as much as I hoped, but I’m dead broke, and that’ll do to till I take in another flat.

J. (_anxiously_). Will that do?

S. J. Why, it isn’t as much as I expected; considering the large income which you will receive, it is very small.

J. I will come for less than two thousand, if you’ll only take me.

S. J. No, I will pay what I guaranteed. I suppose you have references.

J. I’ll write to our minister to send me a character.

S. J. Never mind. I have a knack at reading faces, and I can tell by yours that you are honest and industrious.

J. (_gratified_). Then you will take me?

S. J. Have you got the money with you?

J. Yes; shall I pay it now?

S. J. You might as well, and the partnership shall begin at once.

J. (_drawing out his pocket-book, and counting out some bills_). Two hundred, two hundred and ten, two hundred and twenty-five. I guess you’ll find it right.

S. J. (_looking over the bills carelessly_). Yes, quite correct. Stay, I will give you a receipt. What is your name? (_Writes._)

J. Jonathan Peters.

S. J. (_passes him receipt_). Mine is Jenkins. Success to the firm of Jenkins and Peters. I’ll see about a sign.

J. (_surprised_). Do you do it here? I don’t see nothin’ to sell.

S. J. Oh, it’s a commission business. I’ll attend to that, and you’ll do the writing. I suppose you can write a good hand.

J. Oh, yes, I’ve been to writin’ school two winters. I can’t write very fast.

S. J. Never mind, you’ll learn. Practice makes perfect. I think I’ll have you begin to-day. Do you see that book? (_Points to an old ledger on the desk._)

J. Yes.

S. J. Well, there’s a blank book. I want you to copy out of the ledger into the book, beginning at the first page.

J. All right. I kin do it.

S. J. Be very particular not to make any mistakes.

J. I’ll do my best.

S. J. (_taking his hat_). I’ve got to go round to the bank to deposit this money, and will be right back. See how much you can copy while I am gone.

J. Yes, I’ll work faithful.

(_Exit S. J., L._)

J. (_solus_). Well, aint that a streak of luck! Here I am, just come to the city, and earnin’ a salary of two thousand dollars a year. Won’t it make dad stare? I guess marm’ll be glad I come now. Wonder what Mary Jane’ll say? She’ll be mighty sorry I’ve gone and left her. But she aint fit for the wife of a merchant like me! I must write to dad to-night. I would now, only my time belongs to the firm. Two thousand dollars a year! Why, that’s six dollars a day, and more, almost as much a day as I used to git in a month. Guess I’ll buy a watch after I git my first month’s pay. Holloa, what’s that?

(_Enter THOMAS HEMPTON, R._)

H. (_looking at JONATHAN with surprise_). What are you doing here?

J. (_with dignity_). Tendin’ to business.

H. And how do you happen to be attending to business in my office?

J. Look here, mister, I guess you have made a little mistake. This aint your office. It’s mine and Jenkins’.

H. (_sarcastically_). Indeed! And I suppose that is your ledger that you have before you?

J. Of course it is.

H. Well, you’re a mighty cool customer, though you look rather green than otherwise. Perhaps you can tell me who this Jenkins is.

J. He’s the boss of this concern. That is, him and me are the two bosses.

H. Well, you’re about right there. You look more like bossies than anything else. If you ever lived in the country, as I should judge from your appearance you had, you will know what that means.

J. (_advancing in a threatening manner, and brandishing a ruler_). I say, stranger, quit that. None of your sarse, or I’ll break yer head.

H. (_with dignity_). Enough of this, young man. Put down that ruler. Now, tell me, have you given this man, Jenkins, any money?

J. Yes; two hundred and twenty-five dollars, and he’s took me into partnership.

H. When did you see him last?

J. He went out an hour ago.

H. You’ll never see him, I’m afraid, or your money either.

J. (_terrified_). What’s that, stranger?

H. In short, he’s swindled you. Jenkins is not his real name. He is a clerk of mine, of whom, for some time, I have had suspicions. He took advantage of a three days’ absence of mine in New York, to put an advertisement in the paper, which has taken you in. He’s got your money, and that will be the last we shall see of him, unless the police pick him up.

J. (_crying_). He’s carried off all my money. Boo! hoo! and I aint earnin’ two thousand dollars a year after all. Aunt Betsey’s money gone. Boo! hoo! What’ll marm say?

H. I’m afraid your money’s gone past recovery, but if you want to stay in the city, there’s a friend of mine wants a good, strong fellow in a grocery store. He will give you two dollars a day.

J. (_drying his tears_). Well, that’s pooty good. It’s a good deal more’n I kin make in the country. I’ll take it. (_Enter boy, R., with a note._)

H. (_opening it hastily_). Young man, here is good news. The police, having some suspicions of Jenkins, arrested him as he was on the point of leaving the city for New York, and he is now in custody. You will probably recover your money.

J. (_executing a double shuffle in his delight_). O crackey! my money safe. Now I shan’t be ashamed to write home. You won’t forget about that grocery place?

H. No, I will see my friend to-day, and I have no doubt he will take you. By the way, where are you boarding?

J. At the Blank House.

H. The board is pretty high there.

J. My room is high, anyway, in the fifth story but they charge me only three dollars a week.

H. Three dollars a day, you should say.

J. By gracious, you don’t mean it!

H. Certainly; some of the hotels charge four and five.

J. How do they expect a feller can eat three dollars’ worth of victuals in a day?

H. You’d better leave there at once. I’ll give you the address of a place where you can get boarded for six dollars a week, while you’ll be earning twelve.

J. We kin git board up to Beanville for two dollars a week.

H. Beanville and Boston are two different places, and differ greatly in some important respects. If you will wait here a few moments, I’ll go out and speak to my friend about this place that you want.

(_Exit R._)

J. (_solus_). Well, I wouldn’t ’a’ thought that Jenkins was such a tricky feller. I’d like to jist git hold of him once, and ef I wouldn’t give him a kick that would land him in the middle of next week, it’s because I’d lost the use of my foot, that’s all.

(_Curtain falls._)

ONE WEEK AN EDITOR.

CHARACTERS.

FERNANDO CLAPP, Editor pro tem. EPHRAIM SIMPSON, a Country Farmer. DR. JOHN JENKINS, Vender of Salve. EUGENE SNOW, Printer’s “Devil.” ARAMINTA ELLIS, a Sentimental Young Lady. GEO. CRANE, a Mechanic. DR. WM. RANDALL, Proprietor of Anti-Dyspepsia Pills. HENRY PERKINS, a Fierce-looking Individual.