“But you are so young, Harry,” said his mother, not very hopefully.
“I am fifteen,” said Harry, drawing himself up. “I am well and strong, and I can work.”
“I don’t know what you can find to do.”
“Oh, there are plenty of things,” said Harry, cheerfully, though rather vaguely. It would, perhaps; have puzzled him to enumerate the plenty of things; but he was hopeful and confident, and that was in his favor.
“Do you think you could build houses, Harry?” asked Katy.
“None that would be worth living in,” he said, smiling. “I don’t mean to be a carpenter. It would take too long to learn, and the pay is never very large. But the first thing to do, mother, is to see how we stand.”
“There’s this house. That is all we have, and Squire Turner holds a mortgage on that.”
“The mortgage is seven hundred dollars. How much has been paid on it?”
“Three hundred dollars.”