money before that is used up.
They owe me at the factory for half a week--two dollars and a half.
I shall get it Saturday night. We won't starve for a week, you see."

"Where are you going, Ben?" asked Tony; "won't you stay and play
with me?"

"I can't, Tony. I must go out, and see if I can find something to do."

Milltown was something more than a village. In fact, it had been
incorporated two years before as a city, having the requisite number
of inhabitants. The main street was quite city-like, being lined with
stores.

"I wonder if I can't get a change in a store," thought Ben. So he made
his way to the principal street, and entered the first store he came
to--a large dry-goods store.

Entering, he addressed himself to a small, thin man, with an aquiline
nose, who seemed to have a keen scent for money.

"What can I do for you, young man?" he asked, taking Ben for a customer.

"Can you give me a place in your store?" asked Ben.

The small man's expression changed instantly.

"What do you know of the dry-goods trade?" he inquired.

"Nothing at present, but I could learn," answered our hero.

"Then, I'll make you an offer."

Ben brightened up.

"If you come into the store for nothing the first year, I'll give you
two dollars a week the second."

"Do you take me for a man of property?" asked Ben, disgusted.

The small man replied with a shrill, creaking laugh, sounding like the
grating of a rusty hinge.

"Isn't that fair?" he asked. "You didn't expect to come in as partner
first thing, did you?"

"No, but I can't work for nothing."

"Then--lemme see--I'll give you fifty cents a week for the first year,
and you can take it out in goods."

"No, thank you," answered Ben. "I couldn't afford it."

As he went out of the store, he heard another grating laugh, and the
remark: "That's the way to bluff 'em off. I offered him a place, and
he wouldn't take it."

Ben was at first indignant, but then his sense of humor got the better
of his anger, and he said to himself: "Well, I've been offered a
position, anyway, and that's something. Perhaps I shall have better
luck at the next place."

The next place happened to be a druggist's. The druggist, a tall man,
with scanty black locks, was compounding some pills behind the counter.

Ben was not bashful, and he advanced at once, and announced his
business.

"Don't you want a boy?" he asked.

The druggist smiled.

"I've got three at home," he