"Then," said Jack, "I wouldn't eat any if I were you, Aunt Rachel."

"Oh, if you grudge me the little I eat," said his aunt, in serene sorrow, "I will go without."

"Tut, Rachel! n.o.body grudges you anything here," said her brother; "and as to the poorhouse, I've got some good news to tell you that will put that thought out of your head."

"What is it?" asked Mrs. Harding, looking up brightly.

"I have found employment."

"Not at your trade?"

"No; but at something else which will pay equally well till trade revives."

Here he told the chance by which he was enabled to serve Mr. Merriam the evening previous, and then he gave an account of his visit to the merchant's countingroom, and the engagement which he had made.

"You are indeed fortunate, Timothy," said his wife, her face beaming with pleasure. "Two dollars a day, and we've got nearly the whole of the money left that came with this dear child. Why, we shall be getting rich soon!"

"Well, Rachel, have you no congratulations to offer?" asked the cooper of his sister, who, in subdued sorrow, was eating as if it gave her no pleasure, but was rather a self-imposed penance.

"I don't see anything so very fortunate in being engaged as a porter,"

said Rachel, lugubriously. "I heard of a porter once who had a great box fall upon him and kill him instantly; and I was reading in the _Sun_ yesterday of another out West somewhere who committed suicide."

The cooper laughed.

"So, Rachel, you conclude that one or the other of these calamities is the inevitable lot of all who are engaged in this business?"

"You may laugh now, but it is always well to be prepared for the worst,"

said Rachel, oracularly.

"But it isn't well to be always looking for it, Rachel."

"It'll come whether you look for it or not," retorted his sister, sententiously.

"Then suppose we waste no time thinking about it, since, according to your admission, it's sure to come either way."

Rachel did not deign a reply, but continued to eat in serene melancholy.

"Won't you have another piece of pudding, Timothy?" asked his wife.

"I don't care if I do, Martha, it's so good," said the cooper, pa.s.sing his plate. "Seems to me it's the best pudding you ever made."

"You've got a good appet.i.te, that is all," said Mrs. Harding, modestly disclaiming the compliment.

"Apple puddings are unhealthy," observed Rachel.

"Then what makes you eat them?" asked Jack.

"A body must eat something. Besides, life is so full of sorrow, it makes little difference if it's longer or shorter."

"Won't you have another piece, Rachel?"

Aunt Rachel pa.s.sed her plate, and received a second portion. Jack winked slyly, but fortunately his aunt did not observe it.

When dinner was over, the cooper thought of the sealed envelope which had been given him for his wife.

"Martha," he said, "I nearly forgot that I have something for you."

"For me?"

"Yes, from Mr. Merriam."

"But he don't know me," said Mrs. Harding, in surprise.

"At any rate, he first asked me if I was married, and then handed me this envelope, which he asked me to give to you. I am not quite sure whether I ought to allow strange gentlemen to write letters to my wife."

Mrs. Harding opened the envelope with considerable curiosity, and uttered an exclamation of surprise as a bank note fell out, and fluttered to the carpet.

"By gracious, mother!" said Jack, springing to get it, "you're in luck.

It's a hundred-dollar bill."

"So it is, I declare," said his mother, joyfully. "But, Timothy, it isn't mine. It belongs to you."

"No, Martha, I have nothing to do with it. It belongs to you. You need some clothes, I am sure. Use part of it, and I will put the rest in the savings bank for you."

"I never expected to have money to invest," said Mrs. Harding. "I begin to feel like a capitalist. When you want to borrow money, Timothy, you'll know where to come."

"Merriam's a trump and no mistake," said Jack. "By the way, when you see him again, father, just mention that you've got a son. Ain't we in luck, Aunt Rachel?"

"Boast not overmuch," said his aunt. "Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall."

"I never knew Aunt Rachel to be jolly but once," said Jack under his breath; "and that was at a funeral."

CHAPTER X

JACK'S MISCHIEF

One of the first results of the new prosperity which had dawned upon the Hardings, was Jack's removal from the street to the school. While his father was out of employment, his earnings seemed necessary; but now they could be dispensed with.

To Jack, the change was not altogether agreeable. Few boys of the immature age of eleven are devoted to study, and Jack was not one of these few. The freedom which he had enjoyed suited him, and he tried to impress it upon his father that there was no immediate need of his returning to school.

"Do you want to grow up a dunce, Jack?" said his father.

"I can read and write already," said Jack.

"Are you willing to enter upon life with that scanty supply of knowledge?"