"But how are we to live for the next month?"
"I ought to earn money enough for that."
"If there were any chance of finding work."
"Well, I will go out again to-morrow."
Herbert spoke with a confidence which he did not feel. Wrayburn was not a large village, and, in general, boys were to be found in families where a boy"s work was required. In fact, the only one who seemed likely to have work for a boy was Mr. Banks, the squire"s farm superintendent. His son, Tom, might indeed have worked, had he been inclined; but he was naturally indolent, and his father was too indulgent to compel him to work. He was an only child, and bade fair to be spoiled. Though only fifteen, he had already learned to smoke and drink, and the only limit to either was his scanty pocket money.
As Herbert was walking up the street in perplexity, he fell in with Tom, who was smoking a cheap cigar with the air of an old smoker.
"Where are you bound, Herbert?" he asked.
"Nowhere in particular. I wish I knew where to go."
"Come fishing with me."
"I haven"t time."
"You said you were not going anywhere in particular."
"Because I don"t know where to go."
"Then, why not go with me?"
"I want to find work somewhere."
Tom shrugged his shoulders.
"That"s just what I am not anxious to find," he said. "My father keeps thinking every day that I ought to be at work, but I don"t see it."
Tom winked here, and looked, or thought he looked, uncommonly sly.
"Then, your father has work for a boy to do," said Herbert, getting interested.
"Oh, yes, it is spring now, and the busy season is beginning. But that sort of work don"t suit me. I will never be a farmer. When I get a little older, I should like to go to the city, and enter a store. That would be jolly."
"You might get tired of it."
"No, I wouldn"t; I"m sick of this stupid old town, though. There"s nothing going on."
"I say, Tom, as you don"t want to work, do you think your father would give me a chance?"
"I don"t know," said Tom. "I"ll speak to him if you want me to."
"I wish you would."
"There"ll be one advantage about it. If he hires you, he won"t be at me to work all the time. I"ll do it. Come along, and I"ll speak to him now."
"Thank you, Tom."
"Oh, you needn"t thank me. It"s for my own sake I"m doing it as much as yours," said Tom, who was at least frank in his selfishness.
They went to the small house occupied, much against his will, by Amos Banks. He was in the field, with one of his men, when Tom and Herbert came up, and, jumping over the stone wall, approached him.
"Well, Tom," said his father, "you have come just in time. I want you to ride the horse to plow." "I can"t, father; I don"t feel well to- day."
"What"s the matter?"
"Oh, I"ve got a headache."
"Riding will do you good."
"No, it won"t," said Tom, confidently; "but if you want a boy to help you, here he is."
Mr. Banks turned to Herbert.
"You are Herbert Carter," he said.
"Yes, sir. I would like very much to get a chance to work."
"You"re the widow Carter"s son?"
"Yes, sir."
"Has your mother decided to sell her cottage?"
"I don"t think she has, Mr. Banks."
"Of course you know that Squire Leech wants to buy it."
"Yes, sir. He told me that he wanted to purchase it for your use."
"Just so," said the superintendent, stopping work: "I"ve taken a fancy to that house, and so has Mrs. Banks You had better accept the squire"s offer."
"That would be too much of a sacrifice, Mr. Banks The squire wants to get the place considerably below its value."
"Very likely you overvalue it."
"Mother is attached to it. She would rather have it than a nicer house. Father built it, and it was here they lived for nearly fifteen years."
"No doubt--no doubt," said Banks, impatiently; "but poor folks can"t afford to be sentimental. If it"s for your mother"s interest to sell, then she"d ought to sell, that"s my opinion."
"We may have to sell some time, but as long as we can hold on to the place, we mean to."
"I may as well say," said the superintendent, "that the squire has authorized me to hire you to work, in case your mother consents to sell."
"Is that the condition?"