what are you going to do, Harry?" asked his mother, anxiously.
"Your wages have been our dependence."
"I am sure I shall get something else to do, mother," said Harry, in atone of confidence which he did not feel. "Tending store isn't the onlything to be done."
"I am sure, I hope so," said Mrs. Gilbert, despondently.
"Don't trouble yourself, mother, about the future. Just leave it to me, and you'll see if I don't get something to do."
Nevertheless, the widow could not help troubling herself. She knew thatemployment was hard to find in the village, at any rate and could notconjecture where Harry was to find it. She did not, however, say much onthe subject, fearing to depress his spirits.
Saturday night came, and Harry received his wages.
"I don't know where my next week's wages are coming from, Mr. Mead," hesaid, soberly.
"You may be sure that I will recommend you for any employment I hear of, Harry," said Mr. Mead, earnestly. "I really wish I could afford to keepyou on. You mustn't allow yourself to be discouraged."
"I won't – if I can help it," answered Harry.
The next day was Sunday, and he did not realize that he was out of aposition; but, when Monday morning came, and he could lie abed as longas he pleased, with no call to work, he felt sad.
After a light breakfast, he rose from the table and took his hat.
"Where are you going, Harry?" asked his mother.
"I am going out in search of a job, mother," he replied.
The number of stores was limited, and he was pretty sure in advance thatthere was no opening in any one of them, but he wanted to make sure.
He applied at one after another, and without success.
"I'd take you quick enough, Harry," said Mr. Draper, the dry-goodsdealer, "but I've got all the help I need."
"So I expected, Mr. Draper, but I thought I would ask."
"All right, Harry. If I hear of anything, I will be sure to let youknow," said Mr. Draper, in a friendly tone.
All this evidence of friendliness was, of course, pleasant, but theprospect of a place would have been more welcome, so poor Harry thought. At ten o'clock he reached home.
His mother looked up when he entered, but she saw, by the expression ofhis face, that he had not succeeded.
"You must be tired, Harry," she said. "You had better sit down andrest."
"Oh, no, I'm not tired, mother. If you'll tell me where the four-quartkettle is, I'll go and pick some blueberries."
"What will you do with so many, Harry?"
"Carry them to Mr. Mead. Every two days he sends a supply to market."
"How much does he pay?" asked the widow, brightening up at this glimpseof money to be earned.
"Eight cents a quart, payable in groceries. It won't be much, but willbe better than nothing."
"So it will, Harry. I don't know but I can do better going with you thanto stay at home and sew."
"No, mother; you would be sure to get a headache, exposed to the sun inthe open pasture. Leave me to pick berries. It is more suitable forme."
"What time will you get home to dinner, Harry?"
"I shall not come home till the middle of the afternoon. I'll take alittle lunch with me, and eat in the pasture."
So Harry started out, pail in hand, for the berry pasture. It was abouta mile away, and was of large extent, comprising, probably, thirty acresof land. It was Harry's first expedition of the kind in the season, ashis time had been so fully occupied at the store that he had had noleisure for picking berries.
The berries were not so plentiful as they had been somewhat earlier, butthey were still to be found in considerable quantities.
Harry was not alone. Probably a dozen other persons were in the pasture, engaged in the same way as himself. All knew Harry, and some, who hadnot heard of his loss of place, were surprised to see him there.
"And how is it you are here, Harry?" asked Mrs. Ryan, a good-naturedIrish woman, who was out, with three of her children, reaping a harvestof berries. "And how can Mr. Mead spare you?"
"Because he's got another boy," answered Harry.
"Shure it was mane to send you away, and your mother nadin' yourwages."
"He couldn't help it. He had a nephew that needed the place. But, perhaps, I can make a fortune, like you, picking berries."
"And shure you'd have to live a hundred years to do that, and haveberries ripe all the year round. It's hard work, Harry, and poor pay."
"You have the advantage of me, Mrs. Ryan. You've got three children tohelp you."
"And don't I have to buy food and clothes for the same? Shure, you'rewelcome to all they earn, if you'll board and clothe 'em."
"I didn't think of that. Perhaps I am better off as I am."
"And so ye are, I'm thinkin'."
Harry found that, exert himself as he might, Mrs. Ryan picked nearly asfast as he did. She was used to it, and her pail filled up rapidly.
Harry was glad he did not bring a larger pail, for to him, unaccustomedto bend over, the work was fatiguing, and when, as the town clock strucktwo, he saw his pail filled to the brim, he breathed a sigh of relief.
"If the pail held more, I shouldn't feel satisfied to stop," he said tohimself, "so I'm glad it doesn't."
Mrs. Ryan had two pails and a basket, and each of her children carried asmall pail, so that she remained in the pasture after Harry left.
It was shorter for Harry to go at once to the store, instead of goinground by his home, and this he resolved to do.
About twenty rods from the store, rather to his vexation, he met Philip
Ross, elaborately dressed and swinging a light cane.
Philip, who had not heard of Harry's loss of place, regarded our herowith surprise, not unmixed with curiosity. But for his curiosity, hewould have passed him without a word. Curiosity conquered dislike, andhe inquired:
"Does Mead send you out to pick berries?"
"No," answered Harry.
"Haven't you been picking berries?"
"This looks like it, doesn't it?"
"Of course. Have you a holiday?"
"Yes, a long holiday. I am not working for Mr. Mead now."
An expression of joy lighted up the face of Philip.
"Has he discharged you?" he asked.
"He has taken his nephew in my place."
"And
