Paul was fortunate, but his good fortune was deserved. He always tried to do his duty, was always courteous and obliging, and not afraid to work. Such boys generally find friends. If any of my readers think they are badly treated by their employers, and are poorly provided with friends, let them consider whether they have taken pains to deserve them. Paul had never traveled, and two hours’ ride on the cars from New York to Rockville, on a pleasant, sunny morning, interested him very much. He knew very little of the country, having spent most of his time in the lower part of the city. He began to think the world was more beautiful than he imagined. Finally, the cars came to a stop; the conductor called out “Rockville!” and Paul, with curious anticipation, stepped from the cars upon the platform. There was the usual crowd around the depot. On the platform stood a man with a whip in his hand, evidently a driver. “Carriage for the hotel, or any part of the village!” he called out. Paul stepped up to him and inquired: “Can you tell me how far from here Mrs. Granville lives?” “The widder Granville?” queried the driver. “I suppose so. She is an old lady.” “Just so. Well, she lives about a mile away, on the Plainfield Road.” “Can you take me there?” “Well, as you ain’t over and above hefty, I guess the horses can manage it,” added the driver, humorously. “Just hop on. We’ll be starting directly.” Paul got on the front seat with the driver, feeling disposed to a social chat with that personage. There was but one other passenger, a lady, who was bound for the hotel. “Are you going to visit the widder?” asked the knight of the whip. “I am expecting to stay at her house a little while.” “I suppose you know her?” “No, I have never seen her. I bring a letter from her niece in New York, Mrs. Louisa Holbrook.” “I’ve heard tell of her. She was down here a week last summer. I guess she and the housekeeper couldn’t hitch hosses.” “Mrs. Mercer is the housekeeper, I believe,” said Paul. “Folks call her the housekeeper. I call her the boss,” said the driver. “She’s got the old lady under her thumb, if all accounts are true.” “Is she agreeable?” Amos, the driver, emitted a short laugh. “Wait till you see her,” he said, significantly. “Do you think Mrs. Granville stands in dread of her?” asked Paul, rather anxiously. He was beginning to think his task might be a hard one.