"Well, you do very wrong, let me tell you, to slave yourself and pinch your other children for him, when he might be earning his living just as well as not. He's plenty old enough to be put out." "You may think so, but I don't. He is still but a child." "A pretty big child, I should say. But, if you would like to get him a good master, I know a man over in Cambridge who would take him off of your hands." "Who is he?" "He keeps a store, and wants just such a boy to do odd trifles about, and run of errands. It would be the very dandy for your little follow. He'll be in here to-day; and if you say so, I will speak to him about your son." "I would rather try and keep him with me this winter. He is too young to go so far away. I could not know whether he were well or ill used." "Oh, as to that, ma'am, the man I spoke of is a particular friend of mine, and I know him to be as kind-hearted as a woman. His wife's amiability and good temper are proverbial. Do let me speak a good word for your son; I'm sure you will never repent it." "I'll think about it, Michael; but don't believe I shall feel satisfied to let Henry go anywhere out of Boston, even if I should be forced to get him a place away from home this winter." "Well, you can do as you please, Mrs. Gaston," said Michael in a half offended tone. "I shall not charge any thing for my advice; But say! do you intend trying some of these jackets?" "Can't you give me some more pantaloons? I can do better on them, I think." "We sha'n't have any more coarse trowsers ready for two or three days. The jackets are your only chance." "If I must, suppose I must, then," replied Mrs. Gaston to this, in a desponding tone. "So let me have a couple of them." The salesman took from a shelf two dark, heavy cloth jackets, cut out, and tied up in separate bundles with a strip of the fabric from which they had been taken. As he handed them, to the woman he said-- "Remember, now, these are to be made extra nice." "You shall have no cause of complaint--depend upon that, Michael. But isn't Mr. Berlaps in this morning?" "No. He's gone out to Roxbury to see about some houses he is putting up there." "You can pay me for them pantys, I suppose?" "No. I never settle any bills in his absence." "But it's a very small matter, Michael. Only a dollar and five cents," said Mrs. Gaston, earnestly, her heart sinking in her bosom. "Can't help it. It's just as I tell you." "When will Mr. Berlaps be home?" "Some time this afternoon, I suppose."