the mills they’ll have no chance to make sport of me.”
“Dear! dear! how proper we be. Now, don’t git mad; it uses up your nerve force. Let’s git down to business. You want a job?”
“Certainly,” moodily replied Stanley. “But I can see there is no chance for me up here. I’ll go back to Errol and try to earn my way to Boston. I was a fool to have left the city.”
“Don’t git faint hearted. It’s because you want some grub. We’ll have that mighty soon. Thank the Lawd one can eat up here without paying, if it is simply a case of tough luck. As to work, you don’t know but what a job is waiting for you this minute.”
“I tried for work down below here at a big mill, but was not successful,” said Stanley dispiritedly.
“I see; called into the paper mill, eh? Queer you couldn’t fit in; they usually need a boy.”
“A boy! I am sixteen, if you please,” corrected Stanley.
Bub eyed him humorously. “So am I,” he informed, “but we rank as younkers up here. Say, if you git something to eat won’t it sort of soften that fiery temper of yours? Tempery,
