ing. "It's an iligant
washer I'd make, wouldn't I now?"

"Nobody'd hire you more than once, Andy."

By and by they had supper. If they had been alone they would have got
along on bread and tea; but "Andy needs meat, for he's a growing boy,"
said his mother.

And so Mary was dispatched to the butcher's for a pound and a half of
beefsteak, which made the meal considerably more attractive. Mrs.
Burke felt that it was extravagant, particularly just as her income
was diminished, but she couldn't bear to stint Andy. At first she was
not going to eat, herself, meaning to save a part for Andy's
breakfast; but our hero found her out, and declared he wouldn't eat a
bit if his mother did not eat, too. So she was forced to take her
share, and it did her good, for no one can keep up a decent share of
strength on bread and tea alone.

The next morning Andy went out in search of work. He had no very
definite idea where to go, or to whom to apply, but he concluded to
put in an application anywhere he could.

He paused in front of the house of Deacon Jones, a hard-fisted old
farmer, whose reputation for parsimony was well known throughout the
village, but of this Andy, being a newcomer, was ignorant.

"Wouldn't you like to hire a good strong boy?" he asked, entering the
yard.

The deacon looked up.

"Ever worked on a farm?"

"Yes."

"Can you milk?"

"Yes."

"Where did you work?"

"In Carver."

"What's your name?"

"Andy Burke."

"Where do you live?"

"With my mother, Mrs. Burke, a little way down the road."

"I know--the Widder Burke."

"Have you got any work for me?"

"Wait a minute, I'll see."

The deacon brought out an old scythe from the barn, and felt of the
edge. There was not much danger in so doing, for it was as dull as a
hoe.

"This scythe needs sharpening," he said. "Come and turn the
grindstone."

"Well, here's a job, anyhow," thought Andy. "Wonder what he'll give
me."

He sat down and began to turn the grindstone. The deacon bore on
heavily, and this made it hard turning. His arms ached, and the
perspiration stood on his brow. It was certainly pretty hard work, but
then he must be prepared for that, and after all he was earning money
for his mother. Still the time did seem long. The scythe was so
intolerably dull that it took a long time to make any impression upon
it.

"Kinder hard turnin', ain't it?" said the deacon.

"Yes," said Andy.

"This scythe ain't been sharpened for ever