He took off his apron, and washed his hands. Tom Gavitt followed his example, but didn't go into the house of his employer. He lived in a house of his own about five minutes' walk distant, but left the shop at the same time. In a country village the general dinner hour is twelve o'clock—a very unfashionably early hour—but I presume any of my readers who had been at work from seven o'clock would have no difficulty in getting up a good appetite at noon.
Robert went in and informed his mother of the new boarder. It made no difference, for the table was always well supplied.
"This is Harry Walton, mother," said Mr. Leavitt, "our new apprentice. He will take Bob's place when he goes."
"I am glad to see you," said Mrs. Leavitt, hospitably.
"You may sit here, next to Robert."
"What have you got for us to-day, mother?" asked her husband.
"A picked-up dinner. There's some cold beef left over from yesterday, and I've made an apple pudding."
"That's good. We don't want anything better."
So Harry thought. Accustomed to the painful frugality of the table at home, he regarded this as a splendid dinner, and did full justice to it.
In the afternoon he resumed work in the shop under Robert's guidance. He was in excellent spirits. He felt that he was very fortunate to have gained a place so soon, and determined to write home that same evening.