out--the boy, I mean?"

"He spent the money at Jones's store."

"What did he buy with it?"

"He bought some doughnuts."

"Did he board with you?" asked Bert significantly.

"Yes, he did."

"Then," thought Bert, "I don't wonder much that he was tempted."

"I've got fifty cents in my pocket," he said aloud, producing the coin.
"I show it to you, so that if you hear of my spending money you needn't
think I took it from you."

Silas Wilson eyed the half-dollar with a covetous look, which the sight
of money always brought to his face.

"Hadn't you better give it to me to keep for you?"

"No, thank you; I am very careful. I shall not lose it."

"Boys ginerally are keerless. They are apt to lose money."

"I don't believe you ever lose money, Mr. Wilson."

"Not since I was a boy. I lost two cents once, but it was a lesson to
me, and I've never lost a copper since."

By this time they had reached the farm-house. The farmer drove into the
barn and put up the horse.

"Now we'll go to work," he said.

The work which awaited Bert was in the cornfield. He was set to hoeing,
and kept it up for three hours, along with the farmer in the adjoining
row. Noon came, and Silas, pausing in his work, said: "I calculate Mis'
Wilson will have dinner ready. We'll go to the house."

CHAPTER XIX.

BERT'S EXPERIENCE AS A FARMER'S BOY.

Bert followed the farmer into the kitchen, in the center of which a
table was set. A bony and angular woman was just placing on it a large
pitcher of water.

"Mis' Wilson," said the farmer, "this is Bert Barton, who is helping me
about the farm work."

Bert was no stranger to Mrs. Wilson, whose pew in church was near the
one he occupied.

"How's your ma?" she inquired jerkily.

"Pretty well, thank you, Mrs. Wilson."

"I'm glad to hear it. She looks like a friend of mine, Mrs. Dusenberry,
who died of heart disease."

"I don't think her heart is affected," said Bert, not without anxiety.

"Maybe not, but you can't tell. Folks lives along for years with their
hearts out of kilter, who never find it out till some day they drop
dead."

Mrs. Wilson decidedly was not a cheerful converser. She prided herself
on detecting signs of unsuspected diseases.

"Mebbe you've got heart disease yourself, Sophia," remarked the farmer
jocosely.

"Just as likely as not," answered Mrs. Wilson calmly. "I'm sure my
liver's affected, for I feel it squirm sometimes."

"Mebbe I'd better look out