“Then I’ll look at ’em, an’ if they are good fer anything, I’ll buy ’em,” concluded Joel Perkins.
Frank at once stopped the car and he and the countryman alighted. Then a car going in the other direction was hailed, and both got on board, and Frank paid the fare as he had agreed.
“You must be rich?” remarked the countryman.
“No, Mr. Perkins; if I was I wouldn’t be selling books for a living.”
“I suppose thet’s so. You look like a smart, clever boy.”
“Thank you.”
“I like to see a feller strikin’ out fer himself. It shows he’s got backbone in him. Now, I had to strike out fer myself when I was twelve years old.”
“Is it possible?”
“Worked on old Jed Scudder’s farm fer a dollar a month an’ found—and Jed didn’t find me none too good nuther. Sometimes I didn’t git half enough to eat. But I watched my chances an’ saved every cent, an’ now I got a farm o’ my own.”
“I am sure you deserve it.”