LITMIR.BIZ

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for less."

      "Perhaps I can't get my price in Hampton," said Ben.

      "Of course you can't. There ain't no one goin' to pay you men's wages."

      "Perhaps you are right, Deacon Pitkin. In that case, my mind is made up."

      "What will you do?" asked the deacon, showing some curiosity.

      "I'll leave town."

      "It's a resky thing, Benjamin. You ain't old enough to take care of yourself."

      "I think I can do it. Deacon Pitkin. I am not afraid to try. Still, if you'll give me a hundred and fifty dollars and board—"

      "You must think I'm crazy," said the deacon hastily. "I don't throw money away that way."

      "Then I'm afraid we can't make a bargain, deacon. Here is the store, and I'll bid you good morning."

      "If you think better of my offer, you can let me know, Benjamin. You can talk it over with your uncle."

      "All right, sir. If you think better of mine, just let me know within a week, or I may be gone from Hampton."

      "That's a cur'us boy," said the deacon meditatively. "He's got the most conceited idea of his vally to work of any boy I ever came across. A hundred and fifty dollars and board! What'll Mrs. Pitkin say when I tell her? She ain't much sot on the boy's comin' anyway. She thinks he's too hearty; but I don't mind that, so much. He's strong and good to work, an' he's the only boy in town that would suit me."

      "I wonder what the deacon thinks of me," soliloquized Ben. "I thought I should scare him a little when I named my price. If I'd thought he would take me at that figure, I'd have said more. It wouldn't suit me to work for him at all."

      In the evening Deacon Pitkin came over to see Job Stanton, and renewed his offer for Ben's services.

      "The boy's got wild idees about pay," he said; "but boys haven't much jedgment. You're a sensible man, Mr. Stanton, and you and me can make a fair bargain."

      "It won't be of much use, Deacon Pitkin. Ben's got his idees, an' he sticks to 'em."

      "But you're his uncle. You can make him see his true interest."

      "Ben's young," said Job, suspending his work; "but he's got to look out for himself. He may make mistakes, but I've promised not to interfere. I've got confidence in him that he'll come out right in the end. Truth is, deacon, he don't want to work at farmin', and that's why he asked you such a steep price. He knew you wouldn't agree to give it."

      This put the matter in a new light, and Deacon Pitkin reluctantly concluded that he must abandon the idea of obtaining Ben as a helper on his farm.

      CHAPTER III

      SAM STURGIS' NEW IDEA

      During the week which Ben had agreed to take before coming to a final decision, he had another offer of employment.

      This is how it came about:

      A little out of the village, in a handsome house, the best in Hampton, lived Major Sturgis, a wealthy landholder, who had plenty to live upon and nothing in particular to do, except to look after his property. He was a portly man, who walked with a slow, dignified step, leaning on a gold-headed cane, and evidently felt his importance. His son, Sam, was a chip of the old block. He condescended to associate with the village boys, because solitary grandeur is not altogether pleasant. He occasionally went to New York to visit a cousin of about his own age. From such a visit he had just returned, bringing back with him a new idea.

      "Father," he said, "Cousin Henry has a boy about his own age to wait on him, black his boots, and run errands."

      "Has he?" asked the major mechanically, not looking up from the daily paper which he was reading.

      "Yes, sir. He don't pay him much, you know, only five dollars a month and his board, and Henry finds it very convenient."

      Major Sturgis did not reply. In fact, he was too much interested in the article he was reading.

      "Ain't you as rich as uncle?" asked Sam, who was gradually leading up to his proposal.

      "Yes, Sam, I think so," answered his father, laying down the paper and removing his gold-bowed spectacles.

      "Then why won't you let me have a servant, too?"

      "What do you want of a servant? There are servants enough in the house."

      "I want a boy to follow me round, and do just what I bid him."

      "I don't see any necessity for it."

      "He could do errands for you, too, father," said Sam diplomatically.

      "We would have to send to the city for a boy, in case I let you have one."

      "No, we wouldn't," answered Sam.

      "Do you know of any one around here?"

      "Yes; there is Ben Stanton. He's got to find something to do."

      "I thought you didn't like Ben Stanton," said the major, in some surprise. "I have heard you say-"

      "Oh, he's rather uppish-feels too big for a poor boy; but I would soon train him. I'd make him know his place."

      "Your remarks are well founded, my son. Only yesterday I met the boy on the village street, and instead of taking off his hat and making a low bow, as he should do to a man of my position, he nodded carelessly, and said. 'How are you, major?' Really, I don't know what the country is coming to, when the rising generation is so deficient in veneration."

      "The fact is, father, Ben thinks himself as good as anybody. You'd think, by the way he speaks to me, that he considered himself my equal."

      "That is one of the evils incident to a republican form of government," said the major pompously. "For my part, I prefer the English social system, where the gentry are treated with proper deference."

      "Well, father, may I engage Ben as my servant?"

      "I am afraid you would not find him properly subordinate."

      "Just leave that to me," said Sam confidently. "If I can't teach him his place, then nobody can. I should enjoy having him to order about."

      Sam generally carried his point with his father, and the present instance was no exception.

      "I don't know that I have any particular objection," said the major.

      "How much wages may I offer, father?"

      "The same that your Cousin Henry's servant gets."

      "All right, sir," said Sam, with satisfaction. "I guess I'll go round, and see him about it this afternoon. I suppose he can come any time?"

      "Yes, my son."

      As Sam went out of the room his father thought, complacently:

      "My son has all the pride and instincts of a gentleman. He will do credit to the family."

      Few persons in the village would have agreed with the major. Sam Sturgis was decidedly unpopular. No boy who puts on airs is likely to be a favorite with any class of persons, and Sam put on rather more than he was entitled to. From time to time he received a rebuff, but still money will tell. He had his followers and sycophants, but we may be sure that Ben was not numbered among them. It was quite useless for Sam to patronize him-he would not be patronized, but persisted in treating the major's son with the most exasperating familiarity. Of course this would be impossible if he became Sam's servant, and this more than anything else was the motive of the young aristocrat in wishing to engage him. As to conferring a favor on Ben, that was the last thing in his thoughts.

      Sam bent his steps toward the humble home of Job Stanton, but he did not have to go the whole distance. He met Ben with a fishing-pole over his shoulder.

      "How are you, Sam?" was Ben's familiar greeting. "Want to go fishing with me?"

      "He's entirely too familiar," thought Sam. "I'll cure him of that when he is under my orders."

      At present Sam did not think it politic to express his feelings on the subject. Ben was so independent that it might frustrate his plan.

      "I will walk

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