that even if I don't earn anything for the next
two weeks, we shall be as well off as if I had been working at the
factory all the time. So don't worry any more till that time has passed."

"You certainly have been very fortunate, Benjamin," Mrs. Bradford
was forced to admit.

A copious rain is very apt to be followed by a protracted drought,
and I am sorry to say that this was the case with Ben's luck. Day
after day he went about Milltown, seeking for employment, and
night after night he returned home disappointed and empty-handed.
If it had depended only on himself, his courage would still have
kept up; but his aunt's dismal forebodings affected his spirits. He
did not find it quite so easy to wait and hope as he anticipated.

Three weeks passed, and Ben was painfully sensible that there was
but a dollar in the house.

They had just risen from the dinner table on the day when their
fortunes were at so low an ebb, when a knock was heard at the door.
A man of about thirty-five, Mr. Jotham Dobson, was admitted. Mr.
Dobson was a man with a brisk, business-like air.

"Won't you come in, Mr. Dobson?" asked Ben, who had answered
the knock.

"Is your aunt at home?" inquired Mr. Dobson bruskly.

"Yes, sir."

"Then, I'll step in a minute, as I want to see her on business."

"What business can he possibly have?" thought Ben. "I wish his
business lay with me, and that he wanted to employ me."

"Good morning, Mrs. Bradford," said Dobson rapidly. "No, thank
you, I really haven't the time to sit down; I have a little business
with you, that's all."

"Perhaps he wants to get me to do some sewing," thought Mrs.
Bradford; but she was doomed to be disagreeably disappointed.

"Perhaps you are not aware of it," said Mr. Dobson, "but I am the
city collector of taxes. I've got your tax bill made out. Let me
see--here it is. Will it be convenient for you to pay it to-day?"

"How much is it?" faltered Mrs. Bradford.

"Eleven dollars and eighty cents, precisely," answered the collector.

Mrs. Bradford looked so doleful that Ben felt called upon to reply.

"We can't pay it this morning, Mr. Dobson," he said.

"Really, you had better make the effort," said Dobson. "You are
aware that the tax is now due, and that one per cent a month will be
added for default. That's twelve per cent, a year--pretty heavy."

"What shall we do, Benjamin?" asked his aunt, in a crushed tone.

"Wait and hope, Aunt Jane."

"My frien