us project was ripening,
she had said he was lazy, that "a rolling stone gathered no moss," that
the "boy was father to the man," and that if all he could do was to
whistle and whittle, he had better go over to Squire Green's and help
them shuck their corn.

"Shuck corn! In a week's or a month's time he'd show her what he could
do."

It was a clear October night, calm and beautiful, and Tom rose softly,
tied his best suit up in a bundle with a couple of shirts, took off his
shoes--he had not undressed--slipped down stairs, unfastened the door,
which, however, was only latched, and crept out into the moonlight. He
paused to count the few silver pieces in his little well-worn purse,
took one long look at the red house, and especially at the window where
little Jane's yellow head was oftenest to be seen--for Aunt Maria was
mother as well as aunt to these two motherless children--and away he
went. If he had any qualms of conscience, they were soon forgotten in
the excitement of the moment. The walk was not a long one to the
river-side, and he had made a right guess as to the time the night boat
would land. One by one a sleepy head appeared from the sheds as the boat
neared the wharf, but despite the moonlight, no one noticed him
particularly as he slipped stealthily on board, and to his great relief
the truck was soon shipped, the gang-plank drawn up, and the steamboat
making its white furrow through the sparkling water. He was too
wide-awake now to think of sleeping, and after paying his fare, sat down
to watch the progress of the boat. By-and-by the moon sank, and it was
dark; the chilly dawn soon came, and then long rows of sparkling lights
appeared; the tall spires of the town; the masts of the shipping; the
flitting ferry-boats, each with its green or scarlet blaze of lantern;
rows of house-tops; docks; wharves; flag-staffs; sheds. This, then, was
the great city of his hopes.

Now there was a stirring and calling; a rush of men to the work of
unlading; a heaving of ropes, winding of cables, shouts, curses, the
rattling of carts on the piers, the tinkle of bells on the cars, the
roar of escaping steam, the scream of whistles, and the foul smells of
garbage and bilge-water. He watched the men at their work, he saw the
passengers come out, with sleepy eyes and sodden faces, and take their
departure. He too must go--but where? He wandered off the pier in a
maze. Where should he go? what should he do in all this crowd of