Tommy.—Do you shoe horses here, Mr. Blacksmith?

Blacksmith.—Yes, little man: that's my business.

Tommy.—Well, I want my horse shod.

Blacksmith.—How much can you pay for the job? It will take a good deal of iron to shoe such a big horse as that.

Ruth.—He wants you to do it for nothing, Mr. Blacksmith.

Blacksmith.—Every trade must live, my little lady. If Tommy can afford to keep a horse, he ought to be able to pay for having it shod.

Tommy.—I will pay you next Christmas.

Blacksmith.—-Never run in debt, my lad. If you can't pay for a thing on the spot, do without it. Shun debt as you would poison.

Ruth.—That is just what my grandfather says.

Tommy.—Well, when I get some money, I'll come again, Mr. Blacksmith; for this horse must be shod, if there's iron enough to do it with. Good-by!

Blacksmith.—Good-by, Tommy! Good-by, Ruth!