"Yes," said our hero. "I'm out of work and ready to do anything I can find to do." "Are you used to sawing and splitting wood?" inquired Nancy cautiously. "We had a boy once who broke our saw, because he didn't understand how to use it." "You needn't be afraid of my meeting with such an accident," said Ben confidently. "I saw and split all our wood at home, and have ever since I was twelve years old." "Come in and speak to father," said Nancy; "I guess he'll be willing to hire you." She led the way into a very plain sitting room, covered with a rag carpet, where the deacon sat in a rocking chair, reading an agricultural paper--the only one he subscribed to. His daughter, whose literary tastes were less limited, had tried to get him to subscribe for a magazine, but he declined, partly on account of the expense, and partly because of the pictures of fashionably dressed ladies, and he feared his daughter would become extravagant in dress. Deacon Sawyer looked up as Ben entered the room. "It's Ben Bradford, father," said Nancy, for her father's vision was impaired. "He ain't come to borrow anything, has he, Nancy?" asked the old man. "No, he wants you to employ him to saw and split your wood." "Don't you know I'm a sawyer myself?" said the deacon, chuckling over a familiar joke. Ben laughed, feeling that it was his policy to encourage what feeble glimmering of wit the deacon might indulge in. "That's your joke, father," said Nancy. "You'll have to get the wood sawed and split, and you might as well employ Ben." "I thought you was in the factory, Benjamin," said the old man. "So I was, but they cut down the number of hands some weeks ago, and I had to leave among others." "How do you make a livin', then?" inquired the deacon bluntly. "We've got along somehow," said Ben; "but if I don't get work soon, I don't know what we shall do." "Nancy," said the deacon, "seems to me I can saw the wood myself. It will save money." "No, you can't father," said Nancy decidedly. "You are too old for that kind of work, and you can afford to have it done." "You are a sensible woman, even if you are homely," thought Ben, though for obvious reasons he did not say it. "I dunno about that, Nancy," said her father. "Well, I do," said Nancy peremptorily. The fact is, that she had a will of her own, and ruled the deacon in many things, but, it must be admitted, judiciously, and with an eye to his welfare. "How much will you charge, Benjamin," the deacon asked, "for sawing and splitting the whole lot." "How much is there of it?" asked Ben. "Two cords." "I don't know how much I ought to charge, Deacon Sawyer. I am willing to go ahead and do it, and leave you to pay me what you think right." "That's right," said the deacon in a tone of satisfaction. "You may go ahead and do it, and I'll do the right thing by you." "All right," said Ben cheerfully. "I'll go right to work."