you ever want a recommendation just you come to me."

As Ellis passed Timothy Robinson's place on the way home that worthy
himself appeared, strolling down his lane. "Ah, Ellis," he said,
speaking to his nephew for the first time since their interview two
months before, "so you've finished with your job?"

"Yes, sir."

"Got your sixteen dollars, I suppose? It was worth four times that.
Old Tom cheated you. You were foolish not to have gone to Green when
you had the chance."

"I'd promised Mr. Fillmore to finish with his pasture, sir!"

"Humph! Well, what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know. Harvest will be on next week. I may get in somewhere as
an extra hand for a spell."

"Ellis," said his uncle abruptly, after a moment's silence, "I'm
going to discharge my man. He's no earthly good. Will you take his
place? I'll give you fifteen dollars a month and found."

Ellis stared at Timothy Robinson. "I thought you told me that you had
no place for my father's son," he said slowly.

"I've changed my mind. I've seen how you went at that elderberry job.
Great snakes, there couldn't be a better test for anybody than rooting
out them things. I know you can work. When Jacob Green told me why
you'd refused his offer I knew you could be depended on. You come to
me and I'll do well by you. I've no kith or kin of my own except you.
And look here, Ellis. I'm tired of hired housekeepers. Will your
mother come up and live with us and look after things a bit? I've a
good girl, and she won't have to work hard, but there must be somebody
at the head of a household. She must have a good headpiece--for you
have inherited good qualities from someone, and goodness knows it
wasn't from your father."

"Uncle Timothy," said Ellis respectfully but firmly, "I'll accept your
offer gratefully, and I am sure Mother will too. But there is one
thing I must say. Perhaps my father deserves all you say of him--but
he is dead--and if I come to you it must be with the understanding
that nothing more is ever to be said against him."

Timothy Robinson smiled--a queer, twisted smile that yet had a hint of
affection and comprehension in it. "Very well," he said. "I'll never
cast his shortcomings up to you again. Come to me--and if I find you
always as industrious and reliable as you've proved yourself to be
negotiating them elders, I'll most likely forget that you ain't my own
son some of these days."

The Finished Story

She always s