r,
whose literary tastes were less limited, had tried to get him to
subscribe for a magazine, but he declined, partly on account of the
expense, and partly because of the pictures of fashionably dressed
ladies, and he feared his daughter would become extravagant in
dress.
Deacon Sawyer looked up as Ben entered the room.
"It's Ben Bradford, father," said Nancy, for her father's vision was
impaired.
"He ain't come to borrow anything, has he, Nancy?" asked the old man.
"No, he wants you to employ him to saw and split your wood."
"Don't you know I'm a sawyer myself?" said the deacon, chuckling
over a familiar joke.
Ben laughed, feeling that it was his policy to encourage what feeble
glimmering of wit the deacon might indulge in.
"That's your joke, father," said Nancy. "You'll have to get the wood
sawed and split, and you might as well employ Ben."
"I thought you was in the factory, Benjamin," said the old man.
"So I was, but they cut down the number of hands some weeks ago,
and I had to leave among others."
"How do you make a livin', then?" inquired the deacon bluntly.
"We've got along somehow," said Ben; "but if I don't get work soon,
I don't know what we shall do."
"Nancy," said the deacon, "seems to me I can saw the wood myself.
It will save money."
"No, you can't father," said Nancy decidedly. "You are too old for
that kind of work, and you can afford to have it done."
"You are a sensible woman, even if you are homely," thought Ben,
though for obvious reasons he did not say it.
"I dunno about that, Nancy," said her father.
"Well, I do," said Nancy peremptorily.
The fact is, that she had a will of her own, and ruled the deacon in
many things, but, it must be admitted, judiciously, and with an eye to
his welfare.
"How much will you charge, Benjamin," the deacon asked, "for
sawing and splitting the whole lot."
"How much is there of it?" asked Ben.
"Two cords."
"I don't know how much I ought to charge, Deacon Sawyer. I am
willing to go ahead and do it, and leave you to pay me what you
think right."
"That's right," said the deacon in a tone of satisfaction. "You may go
ahead and do it, and I'll do the right thing by you."
"All right," said Ben cheerfully. "I'll go right to work."
I am obliged to say that in this agreement Ben was unbusiness-like.
There are some men with whom it will answer to make such
contracts, but it is generally wiser to have a definite unders
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