“Well, I never!” ejaculated Ebenezer. “That's the strangest thing I ever heard. How in the name of conscience can a boy earn so much money trampin' round?”
“Perhaps it would not be worth as much to anyone else,” said Melville, “but Herbert suits me, and I need cheerful company.”
“You ain't goin' to keep him long at that figger, be you, Mr. Melville?” asked Mr. Graham, bluntly.
“I think we shall be together a considerable time, Mr. Graham. If, however, you should be willing to pay Herbert a larger salary, I might feel it only just to release him from his engagement to me.”
“Me pay more'n six dollars a week!” gasped Ebenezer. “I ain't quite crazy. Why, it would take about all I get from the post office.”
“You wouldn't expect me to take less than I can earn elsewhere, Mr. Graham,” said Herbert.
“No-o!” answered the storekeeper, slowly. He was evidently nonplused by the absolute necessity of getting another clerk, and his inability to think of a suitable person.
“If Tom Tripp was with me, I might work him into the business,” said Ebenezer, thoughtfully, “but he's bound out to a farmer.”
An inspiration came to Herbert. He knew that his mother would be glad to earn something, and there was little else to do in Wayneboro.
“I think,” he said, “you might make an arrangement with my mother, to make up and sort the mail, for a time, at least.”