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I want to see him."

      "I will," answered Chester, bitterly.

      As he walked home he felt very despondent. Wouldn't it have been better, he asked himself, to accept reduced wages than to give up his job? It would have been hard enough to attempt living on two dollars and a half a week, but that was better than no income at all. And yet, it looked so mean in Silas Tripp to present such an alternative, when he was abundantly able to give him the increase he asked for.

      "I must tell mother and see what she thinks about it," he said to himself.

      CHAPTER II.

      OUT OF WORK

      Chester had a talk with his mother that evening. She felt indignant at Silas Tripp's meanness, but advised Chester to remain in the store for the present.

      "I'd rather work anywhere else for two dollars," said Chester, bitterly.

      It would be humiliating enough to accept the reduction, but he felt that duty to his mother required the sacrifice. He started on his way to the store in the morning, prepared to notify Mr. Tripp that he would remain, but he found that it was too late. Just before he reached the store, he met Abel Wood, a loose-jointed, towheaded boy, with a stout body and extraordinarily long legs, who greeted him with a grin.

      "I'm goin' to work in your place Monday mornin'," he said.

      "Has Mr. Tripp spoken to you?" asked Chester, his heart sinking.

      "Yes, he said you was goin' to leave. What's up?"

      "Mr. Tripp cut down my wages," said Chester. "I couldn't work for two dollars and a half."

      "He's only goin' to give me two and a quarter."

      "You can afford to work for that. Your father's got steady work."

      "Yes, but all the same I'll ask for more in a few weeks. Where are you goin' to work?"

      "I don't know yet," answered Chester, sadly.

      "It's awful hard to get a place in Wyncombe."

      "I suppose it is. I hope something will turn up."

      He tried to speak hopefully, but there was very little hope in his heart.

      He went about his work in a mechanical way, but neglected nothing. When the time came for the store to close, Silas Tripp took three dollars from the drawer and handed it to him, saying: "There's your wages, Chester. I expect it's the last I'll pay you."

      "Yes, sir, I suppose so."

      "I don't know how I'll like the Wood boy. He hain't no experience."

      "He'll get it, sir."

      "If you want to stay for two and a quarter—the same I'm going to give him—I'll tell him I've changed my mind."

      "No, sir; it wouldn't be right to put him off now. I guess I'll get something else to do."

      He turned and left the store, walking with a slower step than usual. His heart was heavy, for he felt that, poorly as they lived hitherto, they must live more poorly still in the days to come. He reached home at last, and put the three dollars in his mother's hands.

      "I don't know when I shall have any more money to give you, mother," he said.

      "It looks dark, Chester, but the Lord reigns. He will still be our friend."

      There was something in these simple words that cheered Chester, and a weight seemed lifted from his heart. He felt that they were not quite friendless, and that there was still One, kinder and more powerful than any earthly friend, to whom they could look for help.

      When Monday morning came he rose at the usual hour and breakfasted.

      "I'll go out and take a walk, mother," he said. "Perhaps I may find some work somewhere."

      Almost unconsciously, he took the familiar way to the store, and paused at a little distance from it. He saw Abel come out with some packages to carry to a customer. It pained him to see another boy in his place, and he turned away with a sigh.

      During the night four or five inches of snow had fallen. This gave him an idea. As he came to the house of the Misses Cleveland, two maiden sisters who lived in a small cottage set back fifty feet from the road, he opened the gate and went up to the front door.

      Miss Jane Cleveland opened it for him.

      "Good-morning, Chester," she said.

      "Good-morning, Miss Cleveland. I thought you might want to get a path shoveled to the gate."

      "So I would; Hannah tried to do it last time it snowed, but she caught an awful cold. But ain't you working up at the store?"

      "Not now. Mr. Tripp cut down my wages, and I left."

      "Do tell. Have you got another place?"

      "Not just yet. I thought I'd do any little jobs that came along till I got one."

      "That's right. What'll you charge to shovel a path?"

      Chester hesitated.

      "Fifteen cents," he answered, at last.

      "I'll give you ten. Money's skerce."

      Chester reflected that he could probably do the job in half an hour, and he accepted. It cheered him to think he was earning something, however small.

      He worked with a will, and in twenty-five minutes the work was done.

      "You're spry," said Jane Cleveland, when he brought the shovel to the door. "It took Hannah twice as long, and she didn't do it as well."

      "It isn't the kind of work for ladies," replied Chester.

      "Wait till I fetch the money."

      Miss Cleveland went into the house, and returned with a nickel and four pennies.

      "I'm reely ashamed," she said. "I'll have to owe you a cent. But here's a mince pie I've just baked. Take it home to your ma. Maybe it'll come handy. I'll try to think of the other cent next time you come along."

      "Don't trouble yourself about it, Miss Cleveland. The pie is worth a good deal more than the cent. Mother'll be very much obliged to you."

      "She's very welcome, I'm sure," said the kindly spinster. "I hope you'll get work soon, Chester."

      "Thank you."

      Chester made his way homeward, as he did not care to carry the pie about with him. His mother looked at him in surprise as he entered the house.

      "What have you there, Chester?" she asked.

      "A pie from Miss Cleveland."

      "But how came she to give you a pie?"

      "I shoveled a path for her, and she gave me a pie and ten cents—no, nine. So you see, mother, I've earned something this week."

      "I take it as a good omen. A willing hand will generally find work to do."

      "How are you off for wood, mother?"

      "There is some left, Chester."

      "I'll go out in the yard and work at the wood pile till dinner time. Then this afternoon I will go out again and see if I can find some more paths to shovel."

      But Chester was not destined to earn any more money that day. As a general thing, the village people shoveled their own paths, and would regard hiring such work done as sinful extravagance. Chester did, however, find some work to do. About half-past three he met Abel Wood tugging a large basket, filled with groceries, to the minister's house. He had set it down, and was resting his tired arms when Chester came along.

      "Give me a lift with this basket, Chester, that's a good fellow," said Abel.

      Chester lifted it.

      "Yes, it is heavy," he said.

      "The minister's got some company," went on Abel, "and he's given an extra large order."

      "How do you like working in the store, Abel?"

      "It's hard work, harder than I thought."

      "But remember what a magnificent salary you will get," said Chester, with a smile.

      "It

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