"Where does Mr. Leavitt live?"
"A quarter of a mile from here—over the bridge. You'll know it well enough. It's a cottage house, with a shoe shop in the backyard."
"Thank you, sir," said Harry. "I'll go there and try my luck."
"Wait a minute," said the postmaster. "There's a letter here for Mr. Leavitt. If you're going there, you may as well carry it along. It's from Boston. I shouldn't wonder if it's about the place Bob Leavitt wants."
"I'll take it with pleasure," said Harry.
It occurred to him that it would be a good introduction for him, and pave the way for his application.
"I hope I may get a chance to work for this Mr. Leavitt," he said to himself. "I like the looks of this village. I should like to live here for a while."
He walked up the street, crossing the bridge referred to by the postmaster, and looked carefully on each side of him for the cottage and shop. At length he came to a place which answered the description, and entered the yard. As he neared the shop he heard a noise which indicated that work was going on inside. He opened the door, and entered.