"You have to wait a thundering long time sometimes," said James. "Well, good night. Come round and see me to-morrow. You'll have plenty of time." "I don't know about that. I must look up something to do." "I shan't. I am going to wait till the superintendent takes me on again. There's one comfort. I can lie abed as long as I want to. I won't be tied to the factory bell." The house which James entered was a good-sized two-story house, with an ample yard, and a garden behind it. His father kept a dry-goods store in Milltown, and was generally considered well-to-do. James entered the mill, not because he was obliged to, but because he wanted to have a supply of money in his pocket. His father allowed him to retain all of his wages, requiring him only to purchase his own clothes. As he was paid five dollars a week, James was able to clothe himself with half his income, and reserve the rest for spending-money. He was very fond of amusements, and there was no circus, concert, or other entertainment in Milltown which he did not patronize. Ben kept on his way, till he reached the small house where his aunt lived, and which had been his own home ever since his parents died, when he was but five years of age. Two years before, Mr. Reuben Bradford, his uncle, died, and since then the family had been supported chiefly by Ben's wages in the mill. His aunt got some sewing to do, but her earnings were comparatively small. There was one thing Ben dreaded, and that was, to tell his aunt about his loss of employment. He knew how she would take it. She was apt to be despondent, and this news would undoubtedly depress her. As for Ben, he was of a sanguine, cheerful temperament, and always ready to look at the bright side, if there was any bright side at all. His little cousin Tony, seven years old, ran out to meet him. "What makes you late, Ben?" he asked. "I am not so very late, Tony," answered Ben, taking the little fellow's hand. "Yes you are; it's half-past five o'clock, and supper's been ready quarter of an hour." "I see how it is, Tony. You are hungry, and that has made you tired of waiting." "No, I am not, but I wanted you to come home. It's always pleasanter when you are at home." "I am glad you like my company. Good evening, Aunt Jane." "Good evening, Ben. Sit right down at the table." "Wait till I've washed my hands, aunt. I came home by Mr. Watson's, and that made me a little longer. Have you heard any news?" Ben asked this, thinking it possible that his aunt had already heard of the discharge of some of the factory hands; but her answer satisfied him that she had not. "Butter's a cent higher a pound," said Mrs. Bradford. "I declare, things seem to be going up all the time. Thirsty-five cents a pound! It really seems sinful to ask such a price." "I wish that wasn't the worst of it," thought Ben.