"Are you going to school now?"
"I have been."
"Your mother told me you might come here a week from Monday, but I'd like to have you come a week earlier, if you can as well as not."
"No, I will wait," said Gerald, hastily.
"Well, just as you like, but if you'll come in evenings so as to get a little used to the work, I'll give you—say, seventy-five cents for a week."
"I think you will have to excuse me, Mr. Tubbs."
"Oh, well, I won't insist upon it," said the grocer, half dissatisfied.
It was Saturday, the weekly school holiday. To-day, at least, Gerald was free. He decided to walk to Crescent Pond and go out in his boat. He had a small dory there, which his father had given him on his last birthday. On the way he passed a small cottage belonging to his father's estate. It was tenanted by a widow named Holman. Her son, John, had been one of his schoolmates but was now employed in a shoe shop.
John was sitting on a wheelbarrow in the yard.
"Come and have a row, John," said Gerald, "that is, if you are not working to-day."