to which he was so ill adapted
as his present position. Yet, until he could look about him, he must
needs eat his kinsman's reluctant bread, or starve. The world was
younger and more unsophisticated when manna dropped from the clouds.

Mr. Shackford stood with his neck craned over the frayed edge of
his satin stock and one hand resting indecisively on the banister,
and Richard on the step above, leaning his back against the blighted
flowers of the wall-paper. From an oval window at the head of the
stairs the summer sunshine streamed upon them, and illuminated the
high-shouldered clock which, ensconced in an alcove, seemed top be
listening to the conversation.

"There's no chance for you in the law," said Mr. Shackford, after
a long pause. "Sharpe's nephew has the berth. A while ago I might
have got you into the Miantowona Iron Works; but the rascally
directors are trying to ruin me now. There's the Union Store, if they
happen to want a clerk. I suppose you would be about as handy behind
a counter as a hippopotamus. I have no business of my own to train
you to. You are not good for the sea, and the sea has probably
spoiled you for anything else. A drop of salt water just poisons a
landsman. I am sure I don't know what to do with you."

"Don't bother yourself about it at all," said Richard, cheerfully.
"You are going back on the whole family, ancestors and posterity, by
suggesting that I can't make my own living. I only want a little time
to take breath, don't you see, and a crust and a bed for a few days,
such as you might give any wayfarer. Meanwhile, I will look after
things around the place. I fancy I was never an idler here since the
day I learnt to split kindling."

"There's your old bed in the north chamber," said Mr. Shackford,
wrinkling his forehead helplessly. "According to my notion, it is not
so good as a bunk, or a hammock slung in a tidy forecastle, but it's
at your service, and Mrs. Morganson, I dare say, can lay an extra
plate at table."

With which gracious acceptance of Richard's proposition, Mr.
Shackford resumed his way upstairs, and the young man thoughtfully
descended to the hall-door and thence into the street, to take a
general survey of the commercial capabilities of Stillwater.

The outlook was not inspiring. A machinist, or a mechanic, or a
day laborer might have found a foot-hold. A man without handicraft
was not in request in Stillwater. "What is your trade?" was the
staggering questi