About twenty rods from the store, rather to his vexation, he met Philip Ross, elaborately dressed and swinging a light cane. Philip, who had not heard of Harry’s loss of place, regarded our hero with surprise, not unmixed with curiosity. But for his curiosity, he would have passed him without a word. Curiosity conquered dislike, and he inquired: “Does Mead send you out to pick berries?” “No,” answered Harry. “Haven’t you been picking berries?” “This looks like it, doesn’t it?” “Of course. Have you a holiday?” “Yes, a long holiday. I am not working for Mr. Mead now.” An expression of joy lighted up the face of Philip. “Has he discharged you?” he asked. “He has taken his nephew in my place.” “And so you have to pick berries for a living?” asked Philip, in exultation. “Yes,” answered Harry, coolly. “I must go home and tell mother,” said Philip, briskly. “Wait a minute, though. Do you want a job?” “Yes,” responded Harry, rather surprised that Philip should feel any interest in the matter. “Then I can give you one. Come up to the house early every morning, and I’ll hire you to black my shoes. I’ll give—let me see—thirty cents a week.” “Thank you, but I couldn’t come up to your house. Bring them down to mine every morning, and I may accept the job.” “Do you think I would demean myself by carrying dirty shoes round the village?” demanded Philip, angrily. “I don’t know,” said Harry, coolly. “You’ll have to do it, if you want me to black them.” Philip muttered something about impudence, but went off very well pleased, to report to his mother that she could trade at Mead’s once more, as he had sent off Harry Gilbert. CHAPTER VI — UNCLE OBED ARRIVES FROM ILLINOIS It seemed odd to Harry to enter Mead’s store, where he had been employed, merely as a customer. Mr. Mead nodded pleasantly. “It seems natural to see you here, Harry,” he said. “Have you been berrying?” “Yes, and I would like to sell my berries.” “Very well. You know what I pay—eight cents a quart.” “I have four quarts.” “Measure them out yourself, Harry. I will make an exception in your case, if you wish it, and give you the money for them.” Harry accepted this offer, as he did not know of what groceries his mother stood in need. As he walked out of the store, he felt more confidence than he had done in the morning. He had not got a place, to be sure, but he had earned thirty-two cents. This was not quite half what he had been accustomed to earn at the store, but it was something. A little way from the store, Harry passed an old man, dressed neatly, but in a well-worn suit, walking with some difficulty, with the help of a stout cane. He looked to be seventy years old, at least, and his appearance indicated that he was poor. As Harry passed, the old man called out: “Stop a minute, boy!”