"Quite right. So you did. Now, Benjamin," continued the deacon, "I want to do the fair thing by you. Two days and a half, at twenty-five cents a day, will make sixty-two cents; or we will say sixty-three. Will that do?" Poor Ben! He had calculated on three times that sum, at least. "That would only be a dollar and a half a week," he said, looking very much disappointed. "I used to work for that when I was young," said the deacon. "At the factory I was paid five dollars a week," said Ben. "Nobody of your age can earn as much as that," said the deacon sharply. "No wonder manufacturin' don't pay, when such wages are paid. What do you say, Mr. Manning?" continued the deacon, appealing to the gentlemen with him. Mr. Manning's face wore an amused smile. He lived in the city, and his ideas on the subject of money and compensation were much less contracted than the deacon's. "Since you appeal to me," he answered. "I venture to suggest that prices have gone up a good deal since you were a boy, Deacon Sawyer, and twenty-five cents won't go as far now as it did then." "You are right," said the deacon; "it costs a sight for groceries nowadays. Well, Benjamin, I'll pay you a little more than I meant to. Here's a dollar, and that's good pay for two days and a half." Ben took the money, but for the life of him he couldn't thank the deacon very heartily. He had been paid at the rate of forty cents a day, which would amount to two dollars and forty cents a week, for work considerably harder than he had done at the factory. "Good afternoon," he said briefly, and reentered the kitchen. Nancy Sawyer scanned his face closely as he closed the door of the sitting-room. She was not surprised at his expression of disappointment. "Well," she inquired, "what did father pay you?" "He wanted to pay me sixty-three cents," answered Ben, with a touch of indignation in his tone. "Twenty-five cents a day." "Of course that was much too little. What did he pay you?" "A dollar." "How much were you expecting to get?" asked Nancy, in a business-like tone. "I was hoping to get seventy-five cents a day. That would be less than I got at the factory." "I think your work was worth that much myself," said the spinster. Ben felt encouraged. "My father is getting old. He forgets that money won't buy as much as it did in his younger days. He means to be just." "Then I don't think he succeeds very well," thought Ben. "I understand such things better," proceeded Miss Nancy, "and I try to make up for father's mistakes, as far as I can. Now tell me what are you meaning to do with the money you received for this job?" "I shall give it all to Aunt Jane," answered Ben. "You are a good boy," said Nancy approvingly. "And she will buy groceries with it, I suppose?" "Yes, Miss Nancy. It is about all she has to depend upon."