“Now mind,” concluded the man, as he left the barn, “Lively’s the word on this farm, an’ ef I catch any of my hired men loafin’ I’ll take it outer their wages, that’s what I’ll do.”
“He’d have hard work taking it out of mine,” thought Dan, as his employer left him. “He’ll have to cut off the tails of some of the old coats he gives me, or shorten my trousers, or wear down the old shoes so the soles are a little thinner. That’s all the wages I get, except what I eat, and goodness knows, if he begins to cut down on that, I’ll be in a bad way.”
Mr. Savage, while one of the wealthiest farmers in that locality, was considered by his neighbors as a miserly sort of a man, and they were not far from it. He owned over a hundred acres of good farm and grazing land, with some timber, a large house and substantial barns. His main farm was about two miles from the village, though he owned pastures and lots here and there throughout the township. Some of this land he had come into possession of by foreclosing mortgages in a most peremptory manner.
Dan continued to work the corn sheller, a machine built to take the kernels of corn from the cob. He turned a big wheel with one hand, and fed the ears into the chute with the other. From a spout the yellow grains fell into a bushel basket, while the cobs were tossed out on the other side into a heap.
“I wonder what he meant, when he said I wouldn’t get off so easy,” reflected Dan. “Could he mean that he’ll whip me? I don’t believe I’d stand that. I think I’d run away, though where I could go, with no money, and only a few ragged clothes, is more than I know. Oh, dear, I wish mother was alive,” and in spite of himself tears came into Dan’s eyes, for his mother had only been dead about a year.
Mrs. Hardy had been a widow, and, with her only son Dan, had lived just outside the village of Hayden, in one of our Eastern states. Her husband had left her a little money but she had had to spend most of it for doctor’s bills, as her health was very poor. Dan could not earn much in the village, and they had had barely enough to live on. When Mrs. Hardy died it took what little money was left for the funeral, and Dan found himself without a dollar in the world, and no friend or relative to aid him. The place he had in the general store of Hank Lee, where he earned a mere pittance, had been filled by another boy when Dan had to stay home to take care of his mother in her final illness.
It looked as if he would have to go to the poorhouse, but, almost at the last moment, Peter Savage had agreed to take the lad and give him board and clothes in exchange for work. To this Dan had agreed, but he had no idea how hard he would have to toil.
He was continually kept busy doing “chores” about the farm from early dawn until dark, and, even then he was not through, for Susan Savage, Peter’s wife, used to make Dan help with the housework,—drying the dishes, blackening the stove, and even doing the sweeping. She found out Dan could do these things, as he had often helped his mother.
“He’s almost as good as a hired girl,” Susan confided to her husband, “and it’s cheaper to have him than it is a girl.”
“Then make him work, Susan,” said Peter. “Work is good fer boys. None of ’em gits half enough.”