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“Mr. Mayflower,” said one of the clerks, coming back to where I sat at my private desk, busy over my plan, “we have a new man in from the West; a Mr. B—-, from Alton. He wants to make a bill of a thousand dollars. Do you know anything about him?”

Now, even this interruption annoyed me. What was a new customer and a bill of a thousand dollars to me just at that moment of time? I saw tens of thousands in prospective.

“Mr. B—-, of Alton?” said I, affecting an effort of memory. “Does he look like a fair man?”

“I don’t recall him. Mr. B—-? Hum-m-m. He impresses you favorably, Edward?”

“Yes, sir; but it may be prudent to send and get a report.”

“I’ll see to that, Edward,” said I. “Sell him what he wants. If everything is not on the square, I’ll give you the word in time. It’s all right, I’ve no doubt.”

“He’s made a bill at Kline & Co.’s, and wants his goods sent there to be packed,” said my clerk.

“Ah, indeed! Let him have what he wants, Edward. If Kline & Co. sell him, we needn’t hesitate.”

And turning to my desk, my plans, and my calculations, I forgot all about Mr. B—-, and the trifling bill of a thousand dollars that he proposed buying. How clear the way looked ahead! As thought created the means of successful adventure, and I saw myself moving forward and grasping results, the whole circle of life took a quicker motion, and my mind rose into a pleasant enthusiasm. Then I grew impatient for the initiatory steps that were to come, and felt as if the to-morrow, in which they must be taken, would never appear. A day seemed like a week or a month.

Six o’clock found me in not a very satisfactory state of mind. The ardor of my calculations had commenced abating. Certain elements, not seen and considered in the outset, were beginning to assume shape and consequence, and to modify, in many essential particulars, the grand result towards which I had been looking with so much pleasure. Shadowy and indistinct became the landscape, which seemed a little while before so fair and inviting. A cloud settled down upon it here, and a cloud there, breaking up its unity, and destroying much of its fair proportion. I was no longer mounting up, and moving forwards on the light wing of a castle-building imagination, but down upon the hard, rough ground, coming back into the consciousness that all progression, to be sure, must be slow and toilsome.

I had the afternoon paper in my hands, and was running my eyes up and down the columns, not reading, but, in a half-absent way, trying to find something of sufficient interest to claim attention, when, among the money and business items, I came upon a paragraph that sent the declining thermometer of my feelings away down towards the chill of zero. It touched, in the most vital part, my scheme of gain; and the shrinking bubble burst.

“Have the goods sold to that new customer from Alton been delivered?” I asked, as the real interest of my wasted day loomed up into sudden importance.

“Yes, sir,” was answered by one of my clerks; “they were sent to Kline & Co.’s immediately. Mr. B—-said they were packing up his goods, which were to be shipped to-day.”

“He’s a safe man, I should think. Kline & Co. sell him.” My voice betrayed the doubt that came stealing over me like a chilly air.

“They sell him only for cash,” said my clerk. “I saw one of their young men this afternoon, and asked after Mr. B—-‘s standing. He didn’t know anything about him; said B—-was a new man, who bought a moderate cash bill, but was sending in large quantities of goods to be packed–five or six times beyond the amount of his purchases with them.”

“Is that so!” I exclaimed, rising to my feet, all awake now to the real things which I had permitted a shadow to obscure.