"Yes, I suppose it ought to be," said Nancy. "Do you want to do it?"
"Yes," said our hero. "I'm out of work and ready to do anything I can find to do."
"Are you used to sawing and splitting wood?" inquired Nancy cautiously. "We had a boy once who broke our saw, because he didn't understand how to use it."
"You needn't be afraid of my meeting with such an accident," said Ben confidently. "I saw and split all our wood at home, and have ever since I was twelve years old."
"Come in and speak to father," said Nancy; "I guess he'll be willing to hire you."
She led the way into a very plain sitting room, covered with a rag carpet, where the deacon sat in a rocking chair, reading an agricultural paper—the only one he subscribed to. His daughter, whose literary tastes were less limited, had tried to get him to subscribe for a magazine, but he declined, partly on account of the expense, and partly because of the pictures of fashionably dressed ladies, and he feared his daughter would become extravagant in dress.
Deacon Sawyer looked up as Ben entered the room.
"It's Ben Bradford, father," said Nancy, for her father's vision was impaired.
"He ain't come to borrow anything, has he, Nancy?" asked the old man.
"No, he wants you to employ him to saw and split your wood."