n Sawyer was a very "close" man, he was always
prompt in his payments. So much must be said to his credit. He
never thought, therefore, of putting Ben off.

"I suppose you want to be paid, Benjamin?" he said.

"Yes, sir, I should like it, if convenient to you."

"Lemme see, Benjamin, how long has it taken you?"

"Two days and a half, sir."

"Not quite. It's only four o'clock now. Have you just go through?"

"Yes, sir."

"We didn't make no bargain, did we?"

"No, sir, I left it to you."

"Quite right. So you did. Now, Benjamin," continued the deacon,
"I want to do the fair thing by you. Two days and a half, at
twenty-five cents a day, will make sixty-two cents; or we will say
sixty-three. Will that do?"

Poor Ben! He had calculated on three times that sum, at least.

"That would only be a dollar and a half a week," he said, looking
very much disappointed.

"I used to work for that when I was young," said the deacon.

"At the factory I was paid five dollars a week," said Ben.

"Nobody of your age can earn as much as that," said the deacon
sharply. "No wonder manufacturin' don't pay, when such wages
are paid. What do you say, Mr. Manning?" continued the deacon,
appealing to the gentlemen with him.

Mr. Manning's face wore an amused smile. He lived in the city, and
his ideas on the subject of money and compensation were much less
contracted than the deacon's.

"Since you appeal to me," he answered. "I venture to suggest that
prices have gone up a good deal since you were a boy, Deacon
Sawyer, and twenty-five cents won't go as far now as it did then."

"You are right," said the deacon; "it costs a sight for groceries
nowadays. Well, Benjamin, I'll pay you a little more than I meant to.
Here's a dollar, and that's good pay for two days and a half."

Ben took the money, but for the life of him he couldn't thank the
deacon very heartily. He had been paid at the rate of forty cents a
day, which would amount to two dollars and forty cents a week,
for work considerably harder than he had done at the factory.

"Good afternoon," he said briefly, and reentered the kitchen.

Nancy Sawyer scanned his face closely as he closed the door of
the sitting-room. She was not surprised at his expression of
disappointment.

"Well," she inquired, "what did father pay you?"

"He wanted to pay me sixty-three cents," answered Ben, with a
touch of indignation in his tone. "Twenty-five cents a day."

"Of