When Harry awoke the next morning, after a sound and refreshing sleep, the sun was shining brightly in at the window. He rubbed his eyes, and stared about him, not at first remembering where he was. But almost immediately recollection came to his aid, and he smiled as he thought of the eccentric old man whose guest he was. He leaped out of bed, and, quickly dressing himself, went downstairs. The fire was burning and breakfast was already on the table. It was precisely similar to the supper of the night previous. The old man sat at the fireside smoking a pipe.
``Good-morning,'' said Harry. ``I am up late.''
``It is no matter. You have a long journey before you, and it is well to rest before starting.''
``Breakfast is ready,'' said the old man, hospitably.
Harry made a hearty breakfast. When it was over he rose to go.
``I
must be going,'' he said. ``Thank you for your kind entertainment. If you would allow me to pay you.''
``I do not keep an inn,'' said the old man, with dignity.
Shaking the old man by the hand, he made his way across the fields to the main road.
Looking back from time to time, he saw the old man watching him from his place in the doorway, his eyes shaded by his hand.
``He is the strangest man I ever saw,'' thought Harry. ``Still he treated me kindly.''
When he reached the road he saw, just in front of him, a boy of about his own age driving half a dozen cows before him.
``Hello!'' he cried, by way of salutation.
``Hello!'' returned the country boy. ``Where are you going?''
``I
don't know. Wherever I can find work,'' answered our hero.
The boy laughed. ``Dad finds enough for me to do. I don't have to go after it. Haven't you got a father?''
``Yes.''
``Why don't you work for him?''
``I
want to work for pay.''
``On a farm?''
``No.
I'll work in a shoeshop if I get a chance or in a printing office.''
``Do you understand the shoe business?''
``No;
but I can learn.''
``Where did you come from?''
``Granton.''
Here the boy reached the pasture to which he was driving the cows, and Harry, bidding him good-by, went on his way. He felt fresh and vigorous, and walked ten miles before he felt the need of rest. He felt hungry, and the provision which he brought from home was nearly gone. There was a grocery store close at hand, and he went in, thinking that he would find something to help his meal.
On the counter he saw some rolls, and there was an open barrel of apples not far off.
For four cents Harry made quite a substantial addition to his meal. As he left the store and walked up the road, with a roll in his hand, and eating an apple, he called to mind Benjamin Franklin's entrance of Philadelphia with a roll under each arm.
``I
hope I shall have as good luck as Franklin had,'' he thought.
Walking slowly, he saw, on a small building which he had just reached, the sign, ``Post Office.''
``Perhaps the postmaster will know if anybody about here wants a boy,'' Harry said to himself.
He entered, finding himself in a small room, with one part partitioned off as a repository for mail matter. He stepped up to a little window, and presently the postmaster, an elderly man, presented himself.
``What name?'' he asked.
``I
haven't come for a letter,'' said Harry.
``What do you want, then?'' asked the official.
``Do you know of anyone that wants to hire a boy?''
``Who's the boy?''
``I am.
I want to get a chance to work.''
``What kind of work?''
``Any kind that'll pay my board and a little over.''
``I
don't know of any place,'' said the postmaster, after a little thought.
``Isn't there any shoeshop where I could get in?''
``That reminds me -- James Leavitt told me this morning that his boy was going to Boston to go into a store in a couple of months. He's been pegging for his father, and I guess they'll have to get somebody in his place.''
Harry's face brightened at this intelligence.
``That's just the kind of place I'd like to get,'' he said. ``Where does Mr.
Leavitt live?''
``A
quarter of a mile from here -- over the bridge. You'll know it well enough.
It's a cottage house, with a shoeshop in the back yard.''
``Thank you, sir,'' said Harry. ``I'll go there and try my luck.''
``Wait a minute,'' said the postmaster. ``There's a letter here for Mr. Leavitt. If you're going there, you may as well carry it along. It's from Boston. Ishouldn't wonder if it's about the place Bob Leavitt wants.''
``I'll take it with pleasure,'' said Harry.
It occurred to him that it would be a good introduction for him, and pave the way for his application.
He walked up the street, crossing the bridge referred to by the postmaster, and looked carefully on each side of him for the cottage and shop. As he neared the shop he heard a noise which indicated that work was going on inside. He opened the door and entered.
