“When are you going back?” asked Joe.
“I can’t tell you.”
“I’m going back in half an hour. You can ride with me if you will.”
“Thank you, Joe, but I guess I’ll have to stay a little longer,” answered Frank; and then the two boys separated.
Porthaven was a town considerably larger than Claster and consequently Frank had a great many more stores and offices to visit. But his quest for employment here was even less encouraging than at home. Not a single opening of any kind presented itself.
“This is certainly hard luck,” he thought, as he found himself at the end of the main street. “I did think there would be at least one opening.”
He had brought a lunch with him, and now walked down to the edge of the small river which ran through Porthaven.
At a beautiful spot bordering the river somebody had placed a bench, and here he sat down to enjoy the sandwiches and piece of pie his mother had thoughtfully provided for him.
Frank’s appetite, like that of most growing boys, was good, and it did not take him long to dispose of his meal.
“Wish I had another sandwich,” he thought, after it was gone. “Tramping around gives one a very hungry feeling, especially if he doesn’t get any work.”