“And don’t I have to buy food and clothes for the same? Shure, you’re welcome to all they earn, if you’ll board and clothe ’em.”
“I didn’t think of that. Perhaps I am better off as I am.”
“And so ye are, I’m thinkin’.”
Harry found that, exert himself as he might, Mrs. Ryan picked nearly as fast as he did. She was used to it, and her pail filled up rapidly.
Harry was glad he did not bring a larger pail, for to him, unaccustomed to bend over, the work was fatiguing, and when, as the town clock struck two, he saw his pail filled to the brim, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“If the pail held more, I shouldn’t feel satisfied to stop,” he said to himself, “so I’m glad it doesn’t.”
Mrs. Ryan had two pails and a basket, and each of her children carried a small pail, so that she remained in the pasture after Harry left.
It was shorter for Harry to go at once to the store, instead of going round by his home, and this he resolved to do.
About twenty rods from the store, rather to his vexation, he met Philip Ross, elaborately dressed and swinging a light cane.
Philip, who had not heard of Harry’s loss of place, regarded our hero with surprise, not unmixed with curiosity. But for his curiosity, he would have passed him without a word. Curiosity conquered dislike, and he inquired: