"I do not want any situation from you," replied the boy, with a sudden show of spirit. "I would rather find my own employment."
"Going to be pig-headed, eh?"
"You can call it what you please. You did not treat me fairly, and I guess I can get along without your aid."
And without another word Ralph pocketed his pay, and walked off.
"A regular young tartar!" mused the squire, as he gazed after him. "He won't be easy to manage; that's certain. Too bad I couldn't get him on the canal boat. I must find some way of getting him out of Westville—and his mother, too. I can't do much while they are around."
Ralph had been paid off at the squire's office in the village, and now he made his way to Uriah Dicks' store, to settle up the family account.
"How much do we owe you, Mr. Dicks?" he asked, as he walked up to Uriah, who was poring over a very dirty ledger.
"Oh, so it's you, Ralph!" exclaimed the storekeeper. "Been up to the squire's yet?"
"Yes."
"Did you get your pay?"