Were all
his bright dreams of future success to terminate in this?

CHAPTER VIII. HARRY'S DECISION

Squire Green rubbed his hands as if he had been proposing a plan with
special reference to the interest of the Waltons. Really he conceived
that it would save him a considerable sum of money. He had in his employ
a young man of eighteen, named Abner Kimball, to whom he was compelled
to pay ten dollars a month. Harry, he reckoned, could be made to do
about as much, though on account of his youth he had offered him but two
dollars, and that not to be paid in cash.

Mr. Walton paused before replying to his proposal.

"You're a little too late," he said, at last, to Harry's great relief.

"Too late!" repeated the squire, hastily. "Why, you hain't hired out
your boy to anybody else, have you?"

"No; but he has asked me to let him leave home, and I've agreed to it."

"Leave home? Where's he goin'?"

"He has not fully decided. He wants to go out and seek his fortune."

"He'll fetch up at the poorhouse," growled the squire.

"If he does not succeed, he will come home again."

"It's a foolish plan, neighbor Walton. Take my word for't. You'd better
keep him here, and let him work for me."

"If he stayed at home, I should find work for him on my farm."

Mr. Walton would not have been willing to have Harry work for the
squire, knowing well his meanness, and how poorly he paid his hired men.

"I wanted to help you pay for that cow," said the squire, crossly. "If
you can't pay for't when the time comes you mustn't blame me."

"I shall blame no one. I can't foresee the future; but I hope to get
together the money somehow."

"You mustn't ask for more time. Six months is a long time to give."

"I believe I haven't said anything about more time yet, Squire Green,"
said Hiram Walton, stiffly. "I don't see that you need warn me."

"I thought we might as well have an understandin' about it," said the
squire. "So you won't hire out the boy?"

"No, I cannot, under the circumstances. If I did I should consider his
services worth more than two dollars a month."

"I might give him two'n a half," said the squire, fancying it was merely
a question of money.

"How much do you pay Abner Kimball?"

"Wal, rather more than that," answered the squire, slowly.

"You pay him ten dollars a month, don't you?"

"Wal, somewheres about that; but it's more'n he earns."

"If he is worth ten dollars, Harry would be worth four