The Young Explorer | Page 3

in all its bearin's?"
"Yes, uncle."
"It ain't best to take any important step without reflection, Ben." "You're right, uncle."
This conversation took place in Job Stanton's little shoe-shop, only a rod distant from the small, plain house which he had occupied ever since he had been married. It was interrupted by the appearance of a pretty girl of fourteen, who, presenting herself at the door of the shop, called out:
"Supper's ready, father."
"So are we, Jennie," said Ben, promptly.
"You are always ready to eat, Ben," said his cousin, smiling.
"That's what Mrs. Pitkin used to think, Jennie. She used to watch every mouthful I took."
CHAPTER II.
DEACON PITKIN'S OFFER.

Ben's father had died three months before. He had lost his mother when ten years old, and having neither brother nor sister was left quite alone in the world. At one time his father had possessed a few thousand dollars, but by unlucky investments he had lost nearly all, so that Ben's inheritance amounted to less than four hundred dollars.
This thought troubled Mr. Stanton, and on his death-bed he spoke about it to his son.
"I shall leave you almost destitute, Ben," he said. "If I had acted more wisely it would have been different."
"Don't trouble yourself about that, father," said Ben promptly. "I am young and strong, and I shall be sure to get along."
"You will have to work hard, and the world is a hard taskmaster."
"I don't feel afraid, father. I am sure I shall succeed."
The dying father was cheered by Ben's confident words. Our hero was strong and sturdy, his limbs active, and his face ruddy with health. He looked like a boy who could get along. He was not a sensitive plant, and not to be discouraged by rebuffs. The father's brow cleared.
"I am glad you are not afraid to meet what is in store for you," he said. "I believe you will do your part, and God helps those who help themselves."
After his father's death, Ben became an inmate of his uncle's family while the estate was being settled. He paid for his board partly by work in the shop, and partly by doing chores. This brings us to the day when the conversation detailed in the first chapter took place.
On the following morning Ben was sent on an errand to the village store. On his way he overtook Deacon Pitkin.
"Good mornin', Ben!" said the deacon. "Where are you goin'?"
"To the store, sir."
"So am I. Ef you ain't in a hurry, le'ss walk along together."
"All right, sir," answered Ben. "I think I know what's comin," he said to himself.
"You're stayin' at your Uncle Job's, ain't you?" asked Deacon Pitkin.
"Yes, sir."
"You don't calc'late to keep on there, do you?"
"No, sir; he would like to have me stay and work in the shop, but I don't fancy shoemaking."
"Jest so. I wouldn't ef I was you. It's an onsartin business. There's nothin' like farmin' for stiddy work."
"The old man kept me at work pretty stiddy," thought Ben. "He'd always find something for me to do."
"'Ive been thinkin' that I need a boy about your age to help me on my farm. I ain't so young as I was, and I've got a crick in my back. I don't want a man-"
"You'd have to pay him too high wages," Ben said to himself.
"A strong, capable boy like you could give me all the help I need."
"I expect I could," said Ben demurely.
"I was sayin' to Mrs. Pitkin this mornin' that I thought it would be a good plan to take you till you was twenty-one."
"What did she say?" asked Ben, interested.
"Waal, she didn't say much," answered the deacon slowly; "but I guess she hasn't no objections."
"Didn't she say that I had an awful appetite?" asked Ben, smiling.
"She said you was pretty hearty," answered the deacon, rather surprised at Ben's penetration. "Boys should curb their appetites."
"I don't think I could curb mine," said Ben thoughtfully.
"I guess there wouldn't be any trouble about that," returned the deacon, whose meanness ran in a different channel from his wife's, and who took less note of what was eaten at his table. "Ef you think you'd like to engage, and we could make a bargain, you might begin next week."
"Jest so," said Ben.
The deacon looked at him rather sharply, but Ben didn't appear to intend any disrespect in repeating his favorite phrase.
"Did your father leave you much?" inquired Deacon Pitkin.
"A few hundred dollars," said Ben carelessly.
"Indeed!" said the deacon, gratified. "What are you goin' to do with it?"
"Uncle Job thinks it would be best to put it in the bank."
"Jest so. It would fetch you some interest every year-enough to clothe you, likely. I'll tell you what I'll do, Ben. I'll give you your board the first year, and your interest will buy your clothes. The second year I'll give you twenty