ieces, of the unground pieces. For
this I will pay you twenty-five cents a day, twenty-five cents a day."

Alfred wended his way home in high glee. The prospect of earning money
was pleasing to the boy. Long before the family arose in the morning he
was up and waiting for his breakfast. Although it was but a few moment's
walk to his place of employment, he insisted that he had best carry his
noonday lunch. This the mother would not permit.

[Illustration: The Bark Mill]

Active as a squirrel the boy scampered over the bark pile picking up the
bits of unground bark. The work was but play.

The noon hour found him on the tan bark pile practicing. As the bell
rang calling the men to work he was at his place with the most
industrious of them.

During the many years that have begun and ended since he worked in Sammy
Steele's tannery, Alfred has received some pretty fair weeks' salaries,
but no pay ever brought the happiness the one dollar and fifty cents he
received for that week's work in the old bark mill when he presented it
to his mother.

Not many days elapsed before his industry was rewarded by an increase of
wages to three times the amount he had previously received. His work
took wider range, upstairs to the big finishing room and the office
where he came in constant contact with the owner of the tannery. He made
himself more useful to the man higher up, and when his pay was increased
to one dollar a day, it seemed a fortune was in sight.

The illusion still clung. The present was but the means to an end and
beyond lay his hopes. To become a great clown in the circus was the
goal. Nor were the little band of minstrels, whose rehearsals had been
checked by the fire and the loss of the melodeon, lost sight of. The big
finishing room found the little band of amateur minstrels rehearsing
almost every night, strange to say, the straight laced old tanner did
not object. When several of the nearby neighbors complained of the noise
and din, he simply gave orders to limit the rehearsals to 10 p. m.

Lin said: "Huh! ef enybody but Alfurd was at the head of it, Sammy
Steele would a histed every one on 'em long ago."

Lin was peeved. She could not imagine how the singing could be anything
without her voice and the melodeon. A tan-yard hand who played the
violin by ear had supplanted Lin. She declared he could only "fiddle fer
dancin', he couldn't foller singin'. Ye can't foller a fiddle an' sing,
ye got to hev a melode