Oscar turned, and found that he had been hailed by Mr. Jackson, the village druggist—a fat, jolly man, who seemed to carry an atmosphere of cheerfulness with him wherever he went.
He gave the boy's hand a tremendous grip and shake, after which he led him through the store into the office, pushed him into a chair, and seated himself in another.
"Well, Oscar," said he, "I haven't seen you for a long time. How does the world use you?"
"The world uses me well enough," replied Oscar; "but some of the people in it might treat me a little better if they were so inclined."
"Yes; there are a good many people about us who seem to be of no earthly use here except to get themselves and others into trouble," said the druggist; "and when we meet any of them, the best thing we can do is to attend to our own business and pay no attention to them."
"But what shall a fellow do when he has no business of his own to attend to?" asked Oscar.
Mr. Jackson laughed so loudly and heartily that the boy was obliged to laugh, too.
"I know what you mean by that," said the former. "I heard this morning that Mr. Smith had discharged you, and if I were in your place, I should be glad of it. I guess he didn't pay you much."
"No, sir; but the little he did pay me was very acceptable. In fact, I don't see how I can get on without it. I must find another situation to-day, if it is a possible thing."
"Well, you might as well give up the idea, for it isn't possible," answered the druggist. "I'll warrant that Smith has had half a dozen applications for your place already. Now, while you are waiting for something to turn up, why can't you do a little job of work for me? I want a case of birds, to put in my dining room—something like the one you sold Parker, only different, you know; that is, different birds and different groupings—if that's the way to express it."