man's face lighted.

"I know that place well. And you came from Newfane here? How did you
happen to do that?"

"My father could not make the farm pay and we needed money."

"Humph! Were you sorry to give up farming?"

"Yes, sir. I didn't want to come to Freeman's Falls. But," added the
boy brightening, "I like the school here."

The manager paused, studying the sharp, eager face, the spare figure,
and the fine carriage of the lad before him.

"Do you like haying?" asked he presently.

"Not particularly," Ted owned with honesty.

Mr. Wharton laughed.

"I see you are a human boy," he said. "If you don't like it, why are
you so anxious to do it now?"

"I've got to earn some money or give up going to school in the fall."

"Oh, so that's it! And what are you working at in school that is so
alluring?" demanded the man with a quizzical glance.

"Electricity."

"Electricity!"

"Wireless, telegraphs, telephones, and things like that," put in Ted.

For comment Mr. Wharton tipped back in his chair and once more let his
eye wander over the boy's face; then he wheeled abruptly around to his
desk, opened a drawer, and took out a yellow card across which he
scrawled a line with his fountain pen.

"You may begin work to-morrow morning," he remarked curtly. "If it is
pleasant, Stevens will be cutting the further meadow with a gang of
men. Come promptly at eight o'clock, prepared to stay all day, and
bring this card with you."

He waved the bit of pasteboard to and fro in the air an instant to be
certain that the ink on it was dry and afterward handed it to Ted.
Instinctively the boy's gaze dropped to the message written upon it and
before he realized it he had read the brief words:

"Ted Turner. He says he has farmed in Vermont. If he shows any
evidence of it keep him. If not turn him off. Wharton."

The man in the chair watched him as he read.

"Well?" said he.

"I beg your pardon, sir. I did not mean to read it," Ted replied with a
start. "I'm very much obliged to you for giving me the job."

"I don't see that you've got it yet."

"But I shall have," asserted the lad confidently. "All I asked was a
chance."

"That's all the world gives any of us," responded the manager gruffly,
as he drew forth a sheet of paper and began to write. "Nobody can
develop our brains, train our muscles, or save our souls but
ourselves."

With this terse observation he turned his back on the boy, and after
loitering