“What! At five cents apiece?” exclaimed Hiram. “Guess not. Go look in the basket under the bench; maybe there's a specked one there.” “Nope. Dad took 'em all home last night and maw cut out the specks and sliced 'em for supper. Gimme a good orange.” “Ask your father,” said Hiram. “Naw, I won't!” declared young Dwight, knowing very well what his father's answer would be. He suddenly made a grab for the golden globe on the apex of Hiram's handsomest pyramid. “Let that alone, Dan!” cried Hiram, and seized the youngster by the wrist. Dan, Junior, was a wiry little scamp, and he twisted and turned, and kicked and squalled, and Hiram was just wrenching the orange from his hand when Mr. Dwight came to the door. “What's this? What's this?” he demanded. “Fighting, are ye? Why don't you tackle a fellow of your own size, Hi Strong?” At that Dan, Junior, saw his chance and broke into woeful sobs. He was a good actor. “I've a mind to turn you over to a policeman, Hiram,” cried “Mr. Dwight, That's what I've a mind to do.” “I suppose you'll discharge me first, won't you?” suggested Hiram, scornfully. “You can come in and git your money right now, young man,” said the proprietor of the Emporium. “Dan! let them oranges alone. And don't you go away from here. I'll want you all day to-day. I shall be short-handed with this young scalawag leaving me in the lurch like this.” It had come so suddenly that Hiram almost lost his breath. He had part of his wish, that was sure. He was not likely to work for Daniel Dwight any longer. The old man led the way back to his office. He had a little pile of money already counted out upon the desk. It was plain that he had intended quarreling with Hiram and getting rid of him at this time, for he had the young fellow's wages figured up to t hat very hour--and twenty cents deducted for the two hours Hiram had had “off.” “But that isn't fair. I'm willing to work to the end of the day. I ought to get my wages in full for the week, save for the twenty cents,” said Hiram mildly. To tell the truth, now that he had lost his job--unpleasant as it had been--Hiram was more than a little troubled. He was indeed about to be cast adrift. “You'll git jest that sum, and not a cent more,” declared Mr. Dwight, sharply. “And if you start any trouble here I'll call in the officer on the beat--yes, I will! I don't know but I ought to deduct the cost of Dan, Junior's, spoiled suit, too. He says you an' he was skylarkin' on Sunday and that's how he fell into the water.” Hiram had no answer to make to this. What was the use? He took the money, slipped it into his pocket, and went out. He did not linger around the Emporium. Nor was he scarcely out of sight when a man driving a span of handsome bay horses halted his team before the store, jumped out, and went in.