"By the way, have you heard from Charles Smith lately? You know he went to Boston last spring, and they say he has got a place, and is doing first rate there."
The keeper smiled as he spoke, and Harry understood him as well as though he had spoken out the real thought that was in his mind.
"I suppose others might do as he has done."
"No doubt of it."
Mr. Nason took from his pocket the large shot bag purse, in which he kept his change, and picked out four quarters.
"Here, Harry, take these; when you get over to Wire's, money will keep you from starving. It will almost anywhere, for that matter."
"How good you are!" exclaimed Harry, as he took the four quarters. "You have been a father to me, and one of these days I shall be able to pay you this money back again."
"Don't trouble yourself about that. Keep it; and I wish I had a hundred times as much to give you."
"I shall never forget you, Mr. Nason. I shall be a man one of these days, and we shall meet again."
The supper bell rang, and they separated. Harry felt the spirit of a man stirring within him. He felt that the world had cast him off, and refused him a home, even in the poorhouse. He was determined to push his way through life like a hero, and he nerved himself to meet whatever hardships and trials might be apportioned to him.