About four o'clock on the afternoon of the third day, Ben completed his job. Not only had he sawed and split the wood, but carried it into the woodshed and piled it up neatly, all ready for use. He surveyed his work not without complacency. "The deacon can't find fault with that job," he said to himself. "He ought to pay me a good price." The shed opened out of the kitchen. Ben rubbed his feet carefully on the mat, knowing that housekeepers had a prejudice against mud or dust, and, ascending a couple of steps, entered the kitchen. Miss Nancy was there, superintending her "help." "Well, Miss Nancy," said Ben, "I've finished the wood." "Have you piled it up in the woodshed?" asked the lady. "Yes. Won't you come and look at it?" Nancy Sawyer stepped into the shed, and surveyed the wood approvingly. "You've done well," she said. "And now I suppose you want your money." "It would be convenient," admitted Ben. "You'll have to see father about that," said Nancy. "Can I see him now?" asked Ben, a little anxiously, for he knew that his aunt's stock of money had dwindled to ten cents. "Yes; you may go right into the sitting-room." This room was connected by a door with the kitchen. "Wait a minute," said Nancy; and she looked at Ben in rather an embarrassed way. Ben paused with his hand on the latch, waiting to hear what Miss Nancy had to say. "My father is very careful with his money," she said. "He may not realize how much work there has been in sawing and splitting the wood. He may not pay you what it is worth." Ben looked serious, for he knew that he needed all he had earned. "What shall I do if he doesn't?" he asked. "I don't want you to dispute about it. Take what he gives you, and then come to me. I will make up what is lacking in one way or another." "Thank you, Miss Nancy. You are very kind," said Ben. "I don't know about that," said Nancy. "I don't pretend to be very benevolent; but I want to be just, and in my opinion that is a good deal better. Now you may go in." Ben lifted the latch, and entered the sitting-room. He found that the deacon was not alone. A gentleman, of perhaps thirty-five, was with him. "I hope I am not intruding," said Ben politely, "but I have finished with the wood." Though Deacon Sawyer was a very "close" man, he was always prompt in his payments. So much must be said to his credit. He never thought, therefore, of putting Ben off. "I suppose you want to be paid, Benjamin?" he said. "Yes, sir, I should like it, if convenient to you." "Lemme see, Benjamin, how long has it taken you?" "Two days and a half, sir." "Not quite. It's only four o'clock now. Have you just go through?" "Yes, sir." "We didn't make no bargain, did we?" "No, sir, I left it to you."