Hiram The Young Farmer | Page 9

muscle, that lad," announced the
"gentleman. Here, son, where can I find you when I'm in town "again?"

"I work at Dwight's Emporium," replied Hiram, rather diffidently.
"All right. Thanks. Here's my card. You're the kind of a boy I like. I'll
surely look you up."
He held out the bit of pasteboard to Hiram; but as the youth stepped
nearer to reach it, the impatient horses sprang forward and the carriage
rolled swiftly by him.
The card flipped from the man's fingers. Hiram grabbed for it, but
missed the card. It fluttered into the excavation in the street and the
shadow hid it completely from the boy's gaze.
Had there been a lantern nearby, as there should have been, Hiram
would have taken it to search for the lost card. For he felt suddenly as
though Opportunity had brushed past him.
The man in the carriage evidently lived out of town. He might be a
prosperous farmer. And, being a farmer, he might be able to give Hiram
just the sort of job he was looking for.
The card, of course, would have put Hiram in touch with the man. And
he seemed like a hearty, good-natured individual.
"And the girl--his daughter--was as pretty as a picture," thought Hiram,
as he turned wearily toward the boarding house. "Well! I don't know
that I'll ever see either of them again; but if I could learn that man's
name and address I'd certainly look him up."
So much did this thought disturb him that he was up an hour earlier
than usual the next morning and hurried to work by the way of the
excavation in the street where the incident had occurred.
But he could not find the card, although he got down into the ditch to
search for it. The loose sand, perhaps, rattling down from the sides of
the excavation during the night, had buried the bit of pasteboard, and
Hiram went on to Dwight's Emporium more disheartened than ever.

The work there went worse that morning. Old Daniel Dwight drove the
young fellow from one task to another. The other clerks got a minute's
time to themselves now and then; but the proprietor of the store seemed
to have his keen eyes on Hiram continually.
There was always a slow-up in the work about ten o'clock, and Hiram
had a request to make. He asked Old Daniel for an hour off.
"An hour off--with all this work to do? What do you mean, boy?"
roared the proprietor. "What do you want an hour for?"
"I've got an errand," replied Hiram, quietly.
"Well, what is it?" snarled the old man, curiously.
"Why--it's a private matter. I can't tell you," returned the youth, coolly.
"No good, I'll be bound--no good. I don't see why I should let you off
an hour---"
"I work many an hour overtime for you, Mr. Dwight," put in Hiram.
"Yes, yes; that's all right. That's the agreement. You knew you'd have
to when you came to work at the Emporium. Stick to your contract,
boy."
"Then why don't you stick to yours?" demanded the youth, boldly.
"Eh! Eh! What do you mean by that?" cried Mr. Dwight, glaring at
Hiram through his spectacles.
"I mean that when I came to work for you seven months ago, you
promised that, if I suited after six months, you would raise my wages.
And you haven't done so," said the young fellow, firmly.
For a moment the proprietor of the Emporium was dumb. It was true.
He had promised just that. He had got the boy cheaper by so doing. But
never before had he hired a boy who stayed as long as six months, so
he had never had to raise his wages.

"Well, well!"
He stammered for a moment; then a shrewd thought came to his mind.
He actually smiled. When Mr. Dwight smiled it was worse than when
he didn't.
"I told you that if you suited me I'd raise your pay, did I?" he snarled.
"Well, you don't suit me. You never have suited me. Therefore, you get
no raise, young man."
Hiram was not astonished; he was only indignant. Another boy might
have expressed his anger by flaring up and tendering his resignation on
the spot.
But Hiram had that fear of debt in his breast which is almost always a
characteristic of the frugal, country-bred person. He had saved little. He
had no prospect of another job. And every Saturday night he was
expected to pay Mrs. Atterson three dollars and a half.
"At any rate, Mr. Dwight," he said, quietly, after a minute's silence, "I
want an hour to myself this morning."
"And I'll dock ye ten cents for it," declared the old man.
"You can do as you like about that," returned