“When do you expect Mr. Remington back?” asked the landlady.
“I don’t know,” said Joshua.
“You are working for him, I believe?”
“Yes; but I have been offered another situation, and I think I shall take it.”
During the next week, Joshua made seven dollars at his new business, and was able to pay his board bill. He was heartily tired of the bowling-alley, where he received treatment which he considered derogatory to one of his age, the son of a rich man; but it was of no use to say anything. He could not afford to lose this place, the only plank that lay between him and starvation. So he bore in silence all the curses he received from the proprietor of the place, when, as was frequently the case, that gentleman was excited by liquor, and kept steadily at work. Indeed, humble as was Joshua’s present position, there is at least this to be said, that for the first time in his life he was earning his living by honest labor.
When he paid his second bill, Mrs. Foster asked him again when Mr. Remington would return.
“I don’t know, ma’am,” he said; “I’ve left his store.”
“What for?”
“He cheated me out of my money,” answered Joshua, truly, “and I don’t think he means to come back at all.”
“But I can’t afford to let you have this room alone for five dollars a week.”