"I could save half of it, if I had it. Would you mind much, mother, if I should take a place in New York?"
"It would be terribly lonely for me, Bert," sighed Mrs. Barton.
"But you would not oppose it?"
"Not if your Uncle Jacob thought it best. He seems to be our only friend just now."
"Yes; I don't know what we should have done without him."
On Monday morning, considerably to his surprise, Bert received an offer of employment.
About a mile from his mother's cottage lived Silas Wilson, an old farmer about sixty years of age, who had the reputation of being one of the meanest men in Lakeville. Even his horses and cows had a hungry look, and it was easy to see that they were not pampered or injured by over-feeding. This was the man who stopped his farm wagon in front of Mrs. Barton's dwelling, and spoke to Bert, who was just coming out of the front door.
"Here, you, Bert Barton!"
"Good-morning, Mr. Wilson," replied Bert.
"Squire Marlowe tells me you are out of a job."