t not in the field. Percy Marlowe passed in his buggy,
and----"

"Never mind about that. Help me look for the wallet."

The rows of corn were of considerable length, and there were a good many
of them. At least ten minutes elapsed before anything was seen of the
missing article, and dark suspicions of his young assistant entered the
mind of Mr. Wilson. But at last Bert's sharp eyes espied a faded leather
wallet between two hills in one of the rows which the farmer had hoed.

"Is this it?" he asked, holding it up in his hand.

"Yes!" exclaimed Silas delighted. "Where did you find it?"

"Just here."

Mr. Wilson opened it, anxious to see whether the contents were intact.

"It's all safe," he said, with a sigh of relief.

"Was there much money in it?" asked Bert.

"Yes; two dollars and sixty-seven cents. It's a narrow escape! Suppose
a dishonest person had found it?"

"It would have been terrible!" said Bert, successfully checking his
disposition to laugh.

"I'm much obliged to you, Bert, for findin' it. I suppose you don't want
any reward?"

"Oh, no! I am working for you, you know, and it wasn't my own time I was
using."

"That's true! Still, I am willin' to give you two cents to encourage you
to be honest."

"Thank you, Mr. Wilson; but I don't need any reward for that."

"You're a good boy, and if you stay with me I'll make a man of you."

"Thank you."

Bert was privately of opinion that if he remained till the age of
twenty-one in Silas Wilson's employ, boarding at his table, he would
grow into a very thin, under-sized man indeed.

Supper was a less substantial meal than dinner in the Wilson household,
consisting of bread and butter and tea, with the addition of a plate of
doughnuts, which were so tough and hard that it occurred to Bert that
they would make very good base-balls if they had been of the right
shape.

After supper he went home for an hour.

"Don't you feel very tired, Bert?" asked his mother.

"Yes, mother, but I feel still more hungry. If you've got anything left
from supper I think I can dispose of it."

"Certainly, Bert; but didn't you eat supper at Mr. Wilson's?"

"Mother, they don't know what good living is there. I'd rather have one
of your suppers than a dozen of Mr. Wilson's. I begin to think that the
board part won't be worth over fifty cents for three days. I am sure it
won't cost them any more."

"I wish you were going to sleep here, Bert. I shall feel lonely."

"