"I reckon here's a lad who didn't know the rules; but it won't take him long to find them out."
Fred was too sore both in mind and body to make any retort, and he limped down the road believing this first attempt to earn a living was already a dismal failure.
He would have kept the story of the attack a secret from his mother, but for the marks of the conflict which could not be hidden, and when questioned represented the affair as of no especial importance.
Mrs. Byram had a fairly good idea of the case, however, when he said despondently:
"I believe it would be better to try some other kind of work. Why can't we go to the city?"
"Because our capital is so limited. To come here it was only necessary to move our furniture three miles, and the promise of needle-work from the superintendent's family assured us sufficient income to meet the absolute cost of living. But you need not go to the breaker again; it may be possible to find employment elsewhere."
"There's little chance of that in this town, mother," Fred replied with a brave attempt at cheerfulness. "I should be worse than a loafer to remain idle while you were working, and by keeping my eyes open that crowd can't do very much mischief."
"Wouldn't it be better to pay your 'footing' as they call it? Once that has been done there can be no excuse for troubling you."
"I won't give them the value of a penny, and I'll stick to my job. Perhaps, by flogging the bully I can teach them to let me alone."
"But you musn't fight, Fred," Mrs. Byram said, in alarm.