ssing on the road hard by, and looking
up he recognized Percy Marlowe, neat and trim in his attire, driving a
light buggy.

"Hallo!" called out Percy, checking his horse.

"Hallo, Percy!"

"Are you working for Silas Wilson?"

"Yes, for a few days."

"I guess you'll make a fortune in that time?" said Percy laughing.

"It seems like it," responded Bert.

"How much does he pay you?"

"Fifty cents for three days and board."

Percy laughed.

"I should want fifty cents an hour, and then I wouldn't do it."

"I'd work all the year round at that price," said Bert.

"I never expect to work--with my hands," went on Percy.

"Have you decided what to do?" asked Bert curiously.

"My father wants me to be a manufacturer, but I think I shall be a
lawyer."

"I am afraid I shan't have much choice. I must take what I can get."

"You might stay with Mr. Wilson and be a farmer."

"I don't think that will suit me at any rate, unless I can work for a
different man."

"Perhaps father can take you back into the shop when you are older."

"I wish he would take me back now. I like it a great deal better than
working out in the field here."

"You mustn't get too high notions into your head, Bert. You know you are
a working boy and mustn't expect to have things all your own way."

"I am not likely to forget that I am a working boy, especially with kind
friends to remind me of it. But we live in the best country in the
world, and there is many a working boy who grows up to be a
distinguished man."

Percy laughed ironically.

"I wouldn't get such silly ideas into your head," he said.

"Why are they silly?"

"You talk as if you expected to be a distinguished man. Ha, ha!"

"I hope to be a successful man," answered Bert stoutly.

Percy laughed again and drove on. Five minutes later Bert saw the farmer
running from the house in a state of great apparent excitement.

"Have you seen anything of my wallet?" he gasped, as he came within
hearing distance.

CHAPTER XX.

BERT IS PLACED IN AN EMBARRASSING POSITION.

Bert regarded his employer with surprise.

"Your wallet?" he repeated.

"Yes," answered Silas Wilson impatiently. "I had it in my pocket when I
was at work here. I didn't think about it till just now, after Mr.
Dexter had left me. Then I found that my pocket was empty."

"I haven't seen it, but you may have dropped it somewhere."

"Just help me look for it. Has anybody been here?"

"No; at leas