lemantiny gave a grunt of satisfaction as she handed the empty
bowl and spoon to the silent, smiling Miss Salome.

"Now, who are you and what do you want?" she said.

Chester had been expecting this question, and while coming along the
Hopedale road he had thought out an answer to it. He began now,
speaking the words slowly and gaspingly, as if reciting a hastily
learned lesson.

"My name is Chester Benson. I belong to Upton up the country. My folks
are dead and I came to Montrose to look for work, I've been there a
week and couldn't get anything to do. I heard a man say that you
wanted men to help in the harvest, so I came out to see if you'd hire
me."

In spite of his weakness, Chester's face turned very red before he got
to the end of his speech. He was new to deception. To be sure, there
was not, strictly speaking, an untrue word in it. As for his name, it
was Chester Benson Stephens. But for all that, Chester could not have
felt or looked more guilty if he had been telling an out-and-out
falsehood at every breath.

"Humph!" said Clemantiny in a dissatisfied tone. "What on earth do you
suppose a midget like you can do in the harvest field? And we don't
want any more help, anyway. We've got enough."

Chester grew sick with disappointment. But at this moment Miss Salome
spoke up.

"No, we haven't, Clemantiny. We want another hand, and I'll hire you,
Chester--that's your name, isn't it? I'll give you good wages, too."

"Now, Salome!" protested Clemantiny.

But Miss Salome only said, "I've made up my mind, Clemantiny."

Clemantiny knew that when Miss Salome did make up her mind and
announced it in that very quiet, very unmistakable tone, she was
mistress of the situation and intended to remain so.

"Oh, very well," she retorted. "You'll please yourself, Salome, of
course. I think it would be wiser to wait until you found out a little
more about him."

"And have him starving on people's doorsteps in the meantime?"
questioned Miss Salome severely.

"Well," returned Clemantiny with the air of one who washes her hands
of a doubtful proposition, "don't blame me if you repent of it."

By this time Chester had grasped the wonderful fact that his troubles
were ended--for a while, at least. He raised himself up on one arm and
looked gratefully at Miss Salome.

"Thank you," he said. "I'll work hard. I'm used to doing a lot."

"There, there!" said Miss Salome, patting his shoulder gently. "Lie
down and rest. D