Ted and the Telephone | Page 5

was not
plentiful. Therefore, as vacation was approaching and he must get a job
anyway, he decided to present himself before Mr. Wharton and ask for
a chance to help in harvesting the hay crops at Aldercliffe and Pine
Lea.
"You are younger than the men I am hiring," Mr. Wharton said, after he
had scanned the lad critically. "How old are you?"
"Fourteen."
"I thought as much. What I want is men."
"But I have farmed all my life," protested Ted with spirit.
"Indeed!" the manager exclaimed not unkindly. "Where?"
"In Vermont."
"You don't say so! I was born in the Green Mountains," was the quick
retort. "Where did you live?"
"Newfane."
Instantly the man's face lighted.
"I know that place well. And you came from Newfane here? How did
you happen to do that?"
"My father could not make the farm pay and we needed money."
"Humph! Were you sorry to give up farming?"
"Yes, sir. I didn't want to come to Freeman's Falls. But," added the boy
brightening, "I like the school here."
The manager paused, studying the sharp, eager face, the spare figure,

and the fine carriage of the lad before him.
"Do you like haying?" asked he presently.
"Not particularly," Ted owned with honesty.
Mr. Wharton laughed.
"I see you are a human boy," he said. "If you don't like it, why are you
so anxious to do it now?"
"I've got to earn some money or give up going to school in the fall."
"Oh, so that's it! And what are you working at in school that is so
alluring?" demanded the man with a quizzical glance.
"Electricity."
"Electricity!"
"Wireless, telegraphs, telephones, and things like that," put in Ted.
For comment Mr. Wharton tipped back in his chair and once more let
his eye wander over the boy's face; then he wheeled abruptly around to
his desk, opened a drawer, and took out a yellow card across which he
scrawled a line with his fountain pen.
"You may begin work to-morrow morning," he remarked curtly. "If it
is pleasant, Stevens will be cutting the further meadow with a gang of
men. Come promptly at eight o'clock, prepared to stay all day, and
bring this card with you."
He waved the bit of pasteboard to and fro in the air an instant to be
certain that the ink on it was dry and afterward handed it to Ted.
Instinctively the boy's gaze dropped to the message written upon it and
before he realized it he had read the brief words:
"Ted Turner. He says he has farmed in Vermont. If he shows any
evidence of it keep him. If not turn him off. Wharton."

The man in the chair watched him as he read.
"Well?" said he.
"I beg your pardon, sir. I did not mean to read it," Ted replied with a
start. "I'm very much obliged to you for giving me the job."
"I don't see that you've got it yet."
"But I shall have," asserted the lad confidently. "All I asked was a
chance."
"That's all the world gives any of us," responded the manager gruffly,
as he drew forth a sheet of paper and began to write. "Nobody can
develop our brains, train our muscles, or save our souls but ourselves."
With this terse observation he turned his back on the boy, and after
loitering a moment to make sure that he had nothing more to say, the
lad slipped away, triumphantly bearing with him the coveted morsel of
yellow pasteboard. That its import was noncommittal and even
contained a tang of skepticism troubled him not a whit. The chief thing
was that he had wrested from the manager an opportunity, no matter
how grudgingly accorded, to show what he was worth. He could farm
and he knew it and he had no doubt that he could demonstrate the fact
to any boss he might encounter.
Therefore with high courage he was promptly on hand the next
morning and even before the time assigned he approached Stevens, the
superintendent.
"What do you want, youngster?" demanded the man sharply. He was in
a hurry and it was obvious that something had nettled him and that he
was in no humor to be delayed.
"I came to help with the haying."
"We don't want any boys as young as you," Stevens returned, moving
away.

"I've a card from Mr. Wharton."
"A card, eh? Why didn't you say so in the first place? Shell it out."
Shyly Ted produced his magic fragment of paper which the overseer
read with disapproval in his glance.
"Well, since Wharton wants you tried out, you can pitch in with the
crowd," grumbled he. "But I still think you're too young. I've had boys
your age before and never found them any