d to hire me."

"What wages did he offer?"

"Two dollars a month, at first. Afterwards he got up to three."

The doctor smiled.

"How could you decline such a magnificent offer?" he asked.

"I don't think I should like boarding at the squire's."

"A dollar is twice as large at least in his eyes as in those of anyone
else."

By this time they had reached a place where a road turned at right
angles.

"I am going down here, Harry," said the doctor. "I should like to have
you ride farther, but I suppose it would only be taking you out of your
course."

"Yes, doctor. I'd better get out."

"I'll tell your father I saw you."

"Tell him I was in good spirits," said Harry, earnestly. "Mother'll be
glad to know that."

"I will certainly. Good-by!"

"Good-by, doctor. Thank you for the ride."

"You are quite welcome to that, Harry."

Harry followed with his eyes the doctor's chaise. It seemed like
severing the last link that bound him to his native village. He was
very glad to have fallen in with the doctor, but it seemed all the more
lonesome that he had left him.

Harry walked six miles farther, and then decided that it was time to
rest again. He was not only somewhat fatigued, but decidedly hungry,
although it was but eleven o'clock in the forenoon. However, it must be
considered that he had walked eleven miles, and this was enough to give
anyone an appetite.

He sat down again beside the road, and untying the handkerchief which
contained his worldly possessions, he drew therefrom a large slice of
bread and began to eat with evident relish. There was a slice of cold
meat also, which he found tasted particularly good.

"I wonder whether they are thinking of me at home," he said to himself.

They were thinking about him, and when an hour later the family gathered
around the table, no one seemed to have much appetite. All looked sober,
for all were thinking of the absent son and brother.

"I wish Harry was here," said Jane, at length, giving voice to the
general feeling.

"Poor boy," sighed his mother. "I'm afraid he'll have a hard time. I
wish he had stayed at home, or even have gone to Squire Green's to work.
Then we could have seen him every day."

"I should have pitied him more if he had gone there than I do now," said
his father. "Depend upon it, it; will be better for him in the end."

"I hope so," said his mother, dubiously.

"But you don't feel sure? Well, time will show. We shall hear from h