deceived you."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"I don't think I did right to come with you to day."

"I can't make out what you're talkin' about. Your uncle has engaged to
let you work for me."

"But I haven't engaged to work for you, Mr. Bickford."

"Hey?" and the blacksmith eyed our hero in undisguised amazement.

"I may as well say that I don't intend to work for you."

"You don't mean to work for me?" repeated Bickford slowly.

"Just so. I have no intention of becoming a blacksmith."

"Is the boy crazy?" ejaculated Aaron Bickford.

"No, Mr. Bickford; I have full command of my senses. You will have to
look out for another apprentice."

"Then why did you agree to come with me?"

"That is what I have to apologize for. I wanted to get away from my
uncle's house quietly, and I thought it the best way to pretend to agree
to his plan."

Aaron Bickford was not a sweet tempered man. He had a pretty strong will
of his own, and was called, not without reason, obstinate. He began to
feel angry.

"Well, boy, have you got through with what you had to say?" he asked.

"I believe so--for the present."

"Then I guess it's about time for me to say something."

"Very well, sir."

"You'll find me a tough customer to deal with, young man."

"Then perhaps it is just as well that I do not propose to work for you."

"But you are goin' to work for me!" said the blacksmith, nodding his
head.

"Whether I want to or not?" interrogated Kit, placidly.

"Yes, whether you want to or not, willy nilly, as the lawyers say."

"I think, Mr. Bickford, you will find that it takes two to make a
bargain."

"So it does, and there's two that's made this bargain, your uncle and
me."

Mr. Bickford was not always strictly grammatical in his language, as the
reader will observe.

"I don't admit my uncle's right to make arrangements for me without my
consent."

"You know more'n he does, I reckon?"

"No, but this matter concerns me more than it does him."

"Maybe you expect to live without workin'!"

"No; if it is true, as my uncle says, that I have no money, I shall have
to make my living, but I prefer to choose my own way of doing it."

"You're a queer boy. Bein' a blacksmith is too much work for you, I
reckon."

"At any rate it isn't the kind of work I care to undertake."

"What's all this rigmarole comin' to? Here we are 'most at my house. If
you ain't goin' to work for me, what are you goin' to do?"

"I