"No; if it is true, as my uncle says, that I have no money, I shall have to make my living, but I prefer to choose my own way of doing it."
"You're a queer boy. Bein' a blacksmith is too much work for you, I reckon."
"At any rate it isn't the kind of work I care to undertake."
"What's all this rigmarole comin' to? Here we are 'most at my house. If you ain't goin' to work for me, what are you goin' to do?"
"I should like to pass the night at your house, Mr. Bickford. After breakfast I will pay you for your accommodations, and go——"
"Where?"
"You must excuse my telling you that. I have formed some plans, but I do not care to have my uncle know them."
"Are you going to work for anybody?" asked the blacksmith, whose curiosity was aroused.
"Yes, I have a place secured."
"Is it on a farm?"