"I have been trying to find somebody to cut up some wood for me and stow it away, but I can't get hold of any unoccupied talent."
Dave's countenance dropped. It went up again, though.
"It will pay a week's board, maybe," he said to himself.
"I--I'll take that job, sir. I know how to swing an axe, and I'd rather be doing that than go loafing about."
"Good! I thought there was some stuff in you worth having."
Dave disregarded this compliment, and asked, "When shall I go to work?"
"Any time. Saw is behind the chopping-block in my shed, hung on a nail, or ought to be; and axe, I guess, is keeping the company of the block."
"I will begin to-day. There will be a comfort in knowing I am doing something."
"That is a good spirit, young man; and let me assure you if you stick to that style of doing things, some day you will be able to take comfort--a lot of it."
The squire went to the window of the office when Dave had left, and watched him cross the street in the direction of the squire's home.