“I jest discharged the only boy I had—and scamp enough he was,” snarled Mr. Dwight. “If you were looking for him, you'd have been sorry to find him. I didn't know but I'd have to send for a policeman to git him off the premises.”
“What—what?”
“That's what I tell you. He was a bad egg. Mebbe he's the boy you want—but you won't get no good of him when you find him. And I've no idea where he's to be found now,” and the old man turned his back on the man in the gray coat and went into his office.
The stranger climbed back into his buggy and took up the lines again with a preoccupied headshake.
“Now, I promised Lettie,” he muttered, “that I'd find out all about that boy—and maybe bring him home with me. Funny that man gave his such a bad character. Wish I could have seen the lad's face the other night—that would have told the story.
“Well,” and he dismissed the matter with a sigh, for he was busy man, “if he's got my card, and he is out of a job, perhaps he'll look me up. Then we'll see.”
CHAPTER VI. THIS DIDN'T GET BY HIRAM
“I've sure got plenty of time now to look for a job,” observed Hiram Strong when he was two blocks away from Dwight's Emporium. “But I declare I don't know where to begin.”
For his experience in talking with the farmers around the market had rather dashed Hiram's hope of getting a place in the country at once. It was too early in the season. Nor did it look so much like Spring as it had a week ago. Already Hiram had to turn up the collar of his rough coat, and a few flakes of snow were settling on his shoulders as he walked.