willing to work, and that he more than paid his keeping by the labor
he performed in the field, and the chores he did about the house--an
interference which the squire silently rebuked, by turning up his nose
at the keeper.

"I do all they want me to do," added the boy, whose tongue seemed to
grow wonderfully glib under the gratuitous censure of the notable
gentleman.

"Don't be saucy, Master West."

"Bless you, squire! Harry never spoke a saucy word in his life,"
interposed the friendly keeper.

"He should know his place, and learn how to treat his superiors. You
give these boys too much meat, Mr. Nason. They can't bear it. Mush and
molasses is the best thing in the world for them."

If any one had looked closely at Harry while the functionary was
delivering himself of this speech, he might have seen his eye snap and
his chest heave with indignation. He had evidently conquered his
timidity, and, maugre his youth, was disposed to stand forth and say,
"I, too, am a man." His head was erect, and he gazed unflinchingly
into the eye of the squire.

"Boy," said the great man, who did not like to have a pauper boy look
him in the eye without trembling--"boy, I have got a place for you,
and the sooner you are sent to it, the better it will be for you and
for the town."

"Where is it, sir?"

"Where is it? What is that to you, you young puppy?" growled the
squire, shocked at the boy's presumption in daring to question him.

"If I am going to a place, I would like to know where it is," replied
Harry.

"You will go where you are sent!" roared the squire.

"I suppose I must; but I should like to know where."

"Well, then, you shall know," added the overseer maliciously; for he
had good reason to know that the intelligence would give the boy the
greatest pain he could possibly inflict. "You are going to Jacob
Wire's."

"Where, sir?" asked the keeper, looking at the squire with
astonishment and indignation.

"To Jacob Wire's," repeated the overseer.

"Jacob Wire's!" exclaimed Mr. Nason.

"I said so."

"Do you think that will be a good place for the boy?" asked the
keeper, trying to smile to cover the indignation that was boiling in
his bosom.

"Certainly I do."

"Excuse me, Squire Walker, but I don't."

The overseer stood aghast. Such a reply was little better than
rebellion in one of the town's servants, and his blood boiled at such
unheard-of plainness of speech to him, late representative to the
gene