"Yes, I am strong," said Gerald, briefly. "And you are willing to work, I suppose?" "I don't know, Mr. Tubbs. Mrs. Lane had no right to make a bargain for me. My father always intended that I should go to college." "That would cost a sight of money, Gerald. Here you would learn business. In a few years you may be earning ten dollars a week." He spoke as if this were a very large sum. "I am not afraid to work, Mr. Tubbs, but I don't think I shall like the grocery business." "Pooh, pooh! a boy like you doesn't know what he would like. How old are you?" "Sixteen." "Sixteen? Why, at sixteen I could lift a barrel of flour. I worked well, if I do say it myself. I only got two dollars a week in this very store, and now it's my own." He looked around him with an air of pride. His highest ambition was realized in the possession of a grocery store. "What do you say to that?" "You have done well, Mr. Tubbs." "Haven't I? And you can do as well. Why, in five years if your mother will advance a little money, I may give you an interest in the business." Gerald did not reply. His heart was sore, and he felt that life had few attractions for him if it was to be passed here. "Are you going to school now?" "I have been." "Your mother told me you might come here a week from Monday, but I'd like to have you come a week earlier, if you can as well as not." "No, I will wait," said Gerald, hastily. "Well, just as you like, but if you'll come in evenings so as to get a little used to the work, I'll give you—say, seventy-five cents for a week." "I think you will have to excuse me, Mr. Tubbs." "Oh, well, I won't insist upon it," said the grocer, half dissatisfied. It was Saturday, the weekly school holiday. To-day, at least, Gerald was free. He decided to walk to Crescent Pond and go out in his boat. He had a small dory there, which his father had given him on his last birthday. On the way he passed a small cottage belonging to his father's estate. It was tenanted by a widow named Holman. Her son, John, had been one of his schoolmates but was now employed in a shoe shop. John was sitting on a wheelbarrow in the yard. "Come and have a row, John," said Gerald, "that is, if you are not working to-day." "No, the shop is shut down for a fortnight," said John, soberly. "It is likely to be a bad job for us." "How is that?" "Our rent was due yesterday, and we can't pay it." "But this is one of father's houses." "Yes; if your father was alive there would be no trouble." "Have you had any notice to pay?" asked Gerald, quickly. "Your stepmother says that if the rent is not paid on Monday we must turn out." "Surely she would not be so inhuman." "That is exactly what she said when mother went to the house yesterday afternoon. My being out of work made no difference to her. I wish the house was yours, Gerald." "Nothing seems to be mine, John," said Gerald, gravely. "Mrs. Lane told me this morning that I must leave school and go to work."