"Seems to me you're rather young to earn your own living. Have you no father or mother?"
"Yes, in the city. But they have seven other boys and it's pretty hard work to get along. I'm the oldest, I am, so I try to turn a penny for myself. A gentleman got me this place, and paid my way out here, but he's gone back to town now. I s'pose he hoped the folks would keep me, but they don't need me no longer."
Mr. Hobart was a man of kindly deeds. More than that, he was a Christian. As he stood talking with the stranger lad the words of the Master ran through his mind: "The poor ye have with ye always, and whensoever ye will ye may do them good."
Certainly here was an opportunity to help a friendless boy. It should not be thrown away.
"How would you like to engage yourself to me for the fall and winter? These boys are all going off to-morrow, and I need a boy about your size to run errands and help me with the chores."
"Really? Honest?"
"Yes, really I do. I want a good boy who will obey me and my wife, and I have an idea that you may suit."
"I'll try to, sir."
"Then jump into that boat and help us fish and I'll take you home with me to-night."
Sam cast a farewell glance at his raft, just then floating out of sight. He had nothing else to take leave of, and no further arrangements to make; no packing to do and no baggage to carry. He had simply himself and the few clothes he wore. At evening he went home with Mr. Hobart in the most matter-of-course way. When the load of fishermen drew up at the barn-door he jumped out and began to unhitch as though that had been his lifelong work.