He stood very little chance of securing the services of a boy belonging to the village, for his penurious¹ disposition² was too well known; but here was a stranger, who knew nothing about him, and who was probably in search of employment.

“Is this Mr. Brackett?” asked Andy, politely.

“Yes; that’s my name.”

“I was told you wanted to hire a boy.”

“Who told you so?”

“A boy I met on the road.”{188}

“Was his name Peter?”

“I believe he said so.”

“A lazy, shiftless boy!” said Brackett, warmly. “He had a good place here, and I looked after him as if he had been my own son; but he didn’t do his duty.”

“He didn’t say anything about that,” said Andy, gravely.

“No, I reckon not. Did he say anything about me?” asked Brackett.

“He said you and he couldn’t get along very well.”

“All his own fault,” returned the farmer, who wished to remove any prejudice which Peter’s story may have excited in the mind of Andy. “He had as nice a home as any boy would want, and easy work; but some boys are never satisfied. Was you looking for work?”

“I thought I might hire out for a while.”

“What do you call yourself?”

“Henry Miller³.”

“Was you raised near here?”

“Not very.”

“Did you ever work on a farm?”

“I have worked a little in that way.”

“Can you milk?”

“Yes.”

“The next question is, how much did you calculate to get?” asked Brackett, cautiously.

“Peter told me how much you gave him,” said Andy.

Mr. Brackett was glad to hear this, as he{189} knew that most boys expected larger wages. He was glad that Andy knew what his predecessor⁴ had received.

“Yes,” he said, with the air of a liberal man, “I gave Peter fifty cents a week, though he wasn’t really worth it. Fifty cents and board, and

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