"Yes, but it isn't a steady employment."
"No; don't suppose I have any idea of giving up boating, because I have been paid five dollars a day for my trip. It's a help, though."
"Did you see anything of Mr. Brandon while you were gone?" asked his mother apprehensively.
"No, mother. I can't say I was disappointed, either."
"When he went away he spoke mysteriously of some good fortune that was coming to him. He expected to earn a large sum of money, and talked of going to Europe."
"He is welcome to do so," said Grit, smiling. "I hope he will, and then we can resume our old life. I tell you, mother, I feel more sure than ever of getting along. I am certain I can earn considerably more next year than I have ever done before," and the boy's cheeks glowed and his eyes sparkled with cheerful hope.
"I am sure you deserve to, Grit, for you've always been a good son."
"I ought to be, for I've got a good mother," said the boy, with a glance of affection at his mother.
"He pays me for all," thought Mrs. Brandon, as she watched with pride and a mother's love the form of her boy as he walked down to the river. "As long as he lives, I have reason to be grateful to God. Mr. Brandon is a heavy cross to me, but I can bear it while I have Grit."
Mr. Brandon, however, did not show himself. He was at Portland, subject to the orders of Colonel Johnson, who thought it not prudent that he or Travers should return just at present, lest, under the influence of liquor, they might become talkative and betray more than he desired.