Jeremiah Brackett brightened up as his glance took in the strong, sturdy figure of our hero.

He stood very little chance of securing the services of a boy belonging to the village, for his penurious disposition 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.”

“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 Miller.”

“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 knew that most boys expected larger wages. He was glad that Andy knew what his predecessor 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 lodgings, and washing,” he added, by way of making the salary seem as munificent as possible.

“It doesn’t seem to me very high pay,” said Andy, who thought it politic to drive a bargain.

“Remember, you’re only a boy,” said Mr. Brackett, “and boys can’t do as much as men. Fifty cents is excellent pay for a boy of—how old be you?”

“Sixteen.”

“For a boy of sixteen. Of course, when you’re a man grown, you can get a good deal more. Why, I pay one man as much as a dollar and a quarter a day!”

“Would I have to work very hard?” asked Andy.

“Oh, no! Just enough for healthy exercise,” said Brackett, in a light, cheerful tone. “It does boys good to use their limbs. I was a dreadful hard worker when I was a boy.”

“You look as if you’d been tired ever since,” said Andy to himself, as he watched the lounging attitude of his future employer.

“You’ll have a nice, pleasant home,” continued Mr. Brackett—“plenty of life and fun. I’ve got four beautiful children, that’ll look upon you as a brother. Mrs. Brackett, who is a perfect lady, will take an interest in you and make you feel at home.”

Before Andy could reply, Mrs. Brackett made her appearance at the back door.

“Jeremiah!” she screamed. “I want some more wood—quick!”

“All right, Lucindy. Well, what do you say? Will you come?”

“I’ll try it a week,” said Andy.

“Then you can begin by sawing and splitting some wood. There’s the wood pile, and there’s the saw and ax. You’d better work up at a pretty good quantity.”

“Well, I’ve got rid of that job,” thought Brackett, with a sigh of relief. “He looks like a good, strong boy. I hope I’ll be able to keep him.”