“Much you know old Brackett, if you think he’d pay that figger,” he said. “He paid me seventy-five cents a week, and kept groanin’ over the big wages he was a-payin’! He wanted to get me for fifty cents!”
“He is certainly not a very generous man, Peter.”
“No; I guess not.”
“Did you save enough to retire on a fortune?” asked Andy, laughing.
Poor Peter looked sad.
“Blest if I’ve got more’n twenty-five cents in the world!” he said; “and I’m awful hungry.”
“So am I, Peter. But I don’t see any chance to get dinner, even if we had ever so much money.”
“We could git some over yonder,” said Peter, pointing to a farmhouse some way back from the road. “Only we might have to pay for it.”
“Then come along,” said Andy. “Let’s go there.”
Peter hung back.