CHAPTER V
LOOKING FOR WORK

Harry shrank from telling his mother that he was about to lose hisplace, but he knew it must be done.

In the evening, when he got home from the store, he seemed so restlessthat his mother asked him what was the matter with him.

"This is my last week at the store, mother," he answered, soberly. "Isuppose that is what makes me feel nervous."

"Has Mr. Mead been induced by Mrs. Ross to turn you away?" asked Mrs.

Gilbert, beginning to feel indignant.

"No; he isn't that kind of a man."

"Isn't he satisfied with you?"

"I ought to have told you at first that a nephew of his own needs theplace, and he can't afford to employ two boys."

"I believe Mrs. Ross is at the bottom of it, after all," said Mrs.

Gilbert.

"No, mother; there you are wrong," and Harry went on to explain that

Howard's appearance was a surprise to his uncle.

"What kind of a boy is he?" asked the widow, disposed to dislike inadvance the boy who had been the means of depriving her son of a place.

"He's a nice fellow. I like him already. Of course I am sorry to lose myplace, but, if I must, I am willing he should have it. I think we shallbe good friends."

"But what are you going to do, Harry?" asked his mother, anxiously.

"Your wages have been our dependence."

"I am sure I shall get something else to do, mother," said Harry, in atone of confidence which he did not feel. "Tending store isn't the onlything to be done."

"I am sure, I hope so," said Mrs. Gilbert, despondently.

"Don't trouble yourself, mother, about the future. Just leave it to me, and you'll see if I don't get something to do."

Nevertheless, the widow could not help troubling herself. She knew thatemployment was hard to find in the village, at any rate and could notconjecture where Harry was to find it. She did not, however, say much onthe subject, fearing to depress his spirits.

Saturday night came, and Harry received his wages.

"I don't know where my next week's wages are coming from, Mr. Mead," hesaid, soberly.

"You may be sure that I will recommend you for any employment I hear of, Harry," said Mr. Mead, earnestly. "I really wish I could afford to keepyou on. You mustn't allow yourself to be discouraged."

"I won't – if I can help it," answered Harry.

The next day was Sunday, and he did not realize that he was out of aposition; but, when Monday morning came, and he could lie abed as longas he pleased, with no call to work, he felt sad.

After a light breakfast, he rose from the table and took his hat.

"Where are you going, Harry?" asked his mother.

"I am going out in search of a job, mother," he replied.

The number of stores was limited, and he was pretty sure in advance thatthere was no opening in any one of them, but he wanted to make sure.

He applied at one after another, and without success.

"I'd take you quick enough, Harry," said Mr. Draper, the dry-goodsdealer, "but I've got all the help I need."

"So I expected, Mr. Draper, but I thought I would ask."

"All right, Harry. If I hear of anything, I will be sure to let youknow," said Mr. Draper, in a friendly tone.

All this evidence of friendliness was, of course, pleasant, but theprospect of a place would have been more welcome, so poor Harry thought. At ten o'clock he reached home.

His mother looked up when he entered, but she saw, by the expression ofhis face, that he had not succeeded.

"You must be tired, Harry," she said. "You had better sit down andrest."

"Oh, no, I'm not tired, mother. If you'll tell me where the four-quartkettle is, I'll go and pick some blueberries."

"What will you do with so many, Harry?"

"Carry them to Mr. Mead. Every two days he sends a supply to market."

"How much does he pay?" asked the widow, brightening up at this glimpseof money to be earned.

"Eight cents a quart, payable in groceries. It won't be much, but willbe better than nothing."

"So it will, Harry. I don't know but I can do better going with you thanto stay at home and sew."

"No, mother; you would be sure to get a headache, exposed to the sun inthe open pasture. Leave me to pick berries. It is more suitable forme."

"What time will you get home to dinner, Harry?"

"I shall not come home till the middle of the afternoon. I'll take alittle lunch with me, and eat in the pasture."

So Harry started out, pail in hand, for the berry pasture. It was abouta mile away, and was of large extent, comprising, probably, thirty acresof land. It was Harry's first expedition of the kind in the season, ashis time had been so fully occupied at the store that he had had noleisure for picking berries.

The berries were not so plentiful as they had been somewhat earlier, butthey were still to be found in considerable quantities.

Harry was not alone. Probably a dozen other persons were in the pasture, engaged in the same way as himself. All knew Harry, and some, who hadnot heard of his loss of place, were surprised to see him there.

"And how is it you are here, Harry?" asked Mrs. Ryan, a good-naturedIrish woman, who was out, with three of her children, reaping a harvestof berries. "And how can Mr. Mead spare you?"

"Because he's got another boy," answered Harry.

"Shure it was mane to send you away, and your mother nadin' yourwages."

"He couldn't help it. He had a nephew that needed the place. But, perhaps, I can make a fortune, like you, picking berries."

"And shure you'd have to live a hundred years to do that, and haveberries ripe all the year round. It's hard work, Harry, and poor pay."

"You have the advantage of me, Mrs. Ryan. You've got three children tohelp you."

"And don't I have to buy food and clothes for the same? Shure, you'rewelcome to all they earn, if you'll board and clothe 'em."

"I didn't think of that. Perhaps I am better off as I am."

"And so ye are, I'm thinkin'."

Harry found that, exert himself as he might, Mrs. Ryan picked nearly asfast as he did. She was used to it, and her pail filled up rapidly.

Harry was glad he did not bring a larger pail, for to him, unaccustomedto bend over, the work was fatiguing, and when, as the town clock strucktwo, he saw his pail filled to the brim, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"If the pail held more, I shouldn't feel satisfied to stop," he said tohimself, "so I'm glad it doesn't."

Mrs. Ryan had two pails and a basket, and each of her children carried asmall pail, so that she remained in the pasture after Harry left.

It was shorter for Harry to go at once to the store, instead of goinground by his home, and this he resolved to do.

About twenty rods from the store, rather to his vexation, he met Philip

Ross, elaborately dressed and swinging a light cane.

Philip, who had not heard of Harry's loss of place, regarded our herowith surprise, not unmixed with curiosity. But for his curiosity, hewould have passed him without a word. Curiosity conquered dislike, andhe inquired:

"Does Mead send you out to pick berries?"

"No," answered Harry.

"Haven't you been picking berries?"

"This looks like it, doesn't it?"

"Of course. Have you a holiday?"

"Yes, a long holiday. I am not working for Mr. Mead now."

An expression of joy lighted up the face of Philip.

"Has he discharged you?" he asked.

"He has taken his nephew in my place."

"And so you have to pick berries for a living?" asked Philip, inexultation.

"Yes," answered Harry, coolly.

"I must go home and tell mother," said Philip, briskly. "Wait a minute, though. Do you want a job?"

"Yes," responded Harry, rather surprised that Philip should feel anyinterest in the matter.

"Then I can give you one. Come up to the house early every morning, andI'll hire you to black my shoes. I'll give – let me see – thirty cents aweek."

"Thank you, but I couldn't come up to your house. Bring them down tomine every morning, and I may accept the job."

"Do you think I would demean myself by carrying dirty shoes round thevillage?" demanded Philip, angrily.

"I don't know," said Harry, coolly. "You'll have to do it, if you wantme to black them."

Philip muttered something about impudence, but went off very wellpleased, to report to his mother that she could trade at Mead's oncemore, as he had sent off Harry Gilbert.

CHAPTER VI
UNCLE OBED ARRIVES FROM ILLINOIS

It seemed odd to Harry to enter Mead's store, where he had beenemployed, merely as a customer.

Mr. Mead nodded pleasantly.

"It seems natural to see you here, Harry," he said. "Have you beenberrying?"

"Yes, and I would like to sell my berries."

"Very well. You know what I pay – eight cents a quart."

"I have four quarts."

"Measure them out yourself, Harry. I will make an exception in yourcase, if you wish it, and give you the money for them."

Harry accepted this offer, as he did not know of what groceries hismother stood in need.

As he walked out of the store, he felt more confidence than he had donein the morning. He had not got a place, to be sure, but he had earnedthirty-two cents. This was not quite half what he had been accustomed toearn at the store, but it was something.

A little way from the store, Harry passed an old man, dressed neatly, but in a well-worn suit, walking with some difficulty, with the help ofa stout cane. He looked to be seventy years old, at least, and hisappearance indicated that he was poor.

As Harry passed, the old man called out:

"Stop a minute, boy!"

Harry stopped, and waited respectfully to learn what the old man wanted. It is a common complaint that most boys are wanting in respect to oldage, but this charge could not be brought against Harry, who wasuniformly courteous to all persons older than himself.

Though he suspected the old man to be very poor, it made no differenceto him.

"Can you tell me where Mr. Ross lives?" asked the stranger.

"Yes, sir. I suppose you mean Colonel Ross?"

"I believe that's what they call him. His wife is my niece."

Harry was very much surprised to hear this.

"Have you ever been there before, sir?" asked Harry.

"No; I've been living out in Illinoy. But I'm getting old, and my onlydaughter died last month. So I've come here to visit my niece."

"I don't believe Mrs. Ross will be very glad to see her uncle," thought

Harry; "and I'm sure Philip won't."

"I will show you the way, sir, if you wish," said Harry, politely.

"I wish you would, if it isn't too much trouble," said the old man.

"Oh, no trouble at all," said Harry.

"You seem to be a very obliging boy. What is your name?"

"Harry Gilbert."

"Are your parents living?"

"My mother is living, but my father's dead – that is, we expect he is. Hewas a sea captain, and never came back from his last voyage."

"Did he leave your mother well off?" asked the old man, gazingattentively at Harry.

Harry thought him rather inquisitive for a stranger, but credited himwith good motives, and answered, readily:

"No, sir; we are quite poor; but I have had a place where I earned fourdollars a week – at the grocery store. Mr. Mead had a nephew come lastweek, and now I am out of work."

"That is unlucky for you."

"Yes, sir; but I shall try hard to get something else soon."

"You look like an industrious boy."

"I like to work."

"Where do you live?"

It so happened that Harry's house could be pointed out across thefields, though at least a quarter of a mile away.

"There it is," he said, pointing it out; "but, perhaps, you cannot seeso far?"

"Oh, yes, I can see it."

By this time they had reached the gate of Colonel Ross, and Harry feltthat he might safely leave the old man.

Out on the lawn was Philip Ross, who, with surprise and displeasure, sawHarry opening the gate for one whom he mentally designated as an oldtramp.

"What do you want here?" he asked, in a tone far from courteous orrespectful.

"What is your name?" asked the old man, fixing his glance on thequestioner.

"My name is Philip Ross, and I am the son of Colonel Ross," answered

Philip, with an air of consequence.

"Then I am your great-uncle, Philip," said the old man, surveying hisyoung kinsman with an interest inspired by the feeling of relationship.

"My great-uncle," repeated Philip, in mingled bewilderment and dismay.

"Yes, Philip, I'm your mother's uncle, come all the way from Illinoy tovisit you."

Harry was amused to see upon the face of his young antagonist a look ofstupefaction.

It was a severe blow to Philip, especially in Harry's presence, to beclaimed as a kinsman by a shabby, old tramp. It was upon his tongue toexpress a doubt as to the relationship, but he forbore.

"Is your mother at home?" asked the old man.

"You can ring the bell and see," answered Philip, deliberately turninghis back and walking off.

The old man looked after him, with a shrewd glance of intelligence, butexpressed no opinion of him.

"Harry," he said, turning to his young guide, "will you come with me tothe door and ring the bell?"

Harry complied with his request.

The door was opened by a servant, who, on seeing the old man, said, pertly:

"We've got nothing for the likes of you," and was about to close thedoor on the two.

"Stop!" said Harry, in a commanding voice, for he was provoked with thegirl's ill manners. "Tell Mrs. Ross that her uncle is here. I thinkyou'd better invite him in."

"Well, I never!" said the girl, abashed. "I hope you'll excuse me, sir.

Walk into the parlor, and I'll tell Mrs. Ross you are here."

"Won't you come in, Harry?" asked the old man, who seemed to have takena liking to his young guide.

"No, thank you, sir. I shall see you again, if you are going to stay inthe village."

"Thank you! you're a good boy," and the old man began to fumble in hispocket.

"Oh, no. I can't take anything," said Harry hurriedly.

Even if the old man had been rich, he would have declinedcompensation – much more when he looked very poor.

"Well, well! I'm much obliged to you, all the same."

Leaving Harry to find his way home, let us see what sort of receptionthe old man had from his niece.

Within five minutes Mrs. Ross sailed into the room.

"Why, Lucinda!" said the old man, heartily; "it's a long time since Imet you."

"I do not remember ever having seen you," said Mrs. Ross, frigidly.

"I haven't seen you since you were a little girl, for I've been livingaway out in Illinoy. I'm your Uncle Obed – Obed Wilkins – brother of yourmother."

"Indeed!" said Mrs. Ross, coldly, eyeing the old man's shabby attirewith something like disdain. "You must be an old man!"

"Seventy-two, Lucinda. I was born in October, while your mother was twoyears younger than I, and born in August. I didn't think to outlive her, seeing she was younger, but I have."

"I think it was imprudent in a man of your age coming so far," said Mrs.

Ross.

"I was all alone, Lucinda. My daughter died last spring, and I wanted tobe near some one that was akin to me, so I've come to see the onlyrelations I've got left on earth."

"That's very cool," thought Mrs. Ross. "He expects us to support him, Isuppose. He looks as poor as poverty. He ought to have gone to thepoorhouse in his old home."

To be sure, she would not like to have had it known that she had anuncle in the poorhouse; but, so far away as Illinois, it would not havebeen known to any of her Eastern friends, and wouldn't matter so much.

"I will speak to Colonel Ross about it, Mr. Wilkins," she said, coldly.

"You can stay to supper, and see him then."

"Don't call me Mr. Wilkins. I'm your Uncle Obed," said the old man.

"You may be my uncle, but I am not sufficiently acquainted with you yetfor that," she answered. "You can come upstairs, if you feel tired, andlie down till supper time."

"Thank you, I will," said Uncle Obed.

The offer of Mrs. Ross was dictated not so much by kindness as by thedesire to get her shabby uncle well out of the way, and have a chancefor a private conference with her husband, whom she expected everyminute.

If the unannounced visit of Uncle Obed may be thought to need an excuse, it can easily be found. For years, when Mrs. Ross was a girl, she andher mother were mainly supported by the now despised uncle, without whomthey might have become dependent upon charity.

It was not a time that Mrs. Ross, in her present luxury, liked to thinkabout, and for years she had not communicated with the uncle to whom sheowed so much.

Full of charity himself, he was unconscious of her lack of gratitude, and supposed that her failure to write was owing to lack of time. He hadcome in good faith, when bereft of his daughter, to renew acquaintancewith his niece, never dreaming how unwelcome he would be. Philip'srudeness impressed him unpleasantly, but, then, the boy had never seenhim before, and that was some excuse.