"Benjamin Bradford!" said his aunt sharply. "Do you expect me to believe such a foolish story as that?"

Ben laughed, He was not surprised at his aunt's incredulity; he wouldn't have believed that morning that there was any chance of his making so much money.

"I don't know as I blame you, Aunt Jane; but if you won't believe me, perhaps you'll believe your own eyes," answered Ben, as he drew forth the two five-dollar bills from his pocket, and showed them to Mrs. Bradford.

"Are they good?" she asked suspiciously.

"As good as gold, Aunt Jane; well, not exactly as good as gold, but as good as greenbacks, anyway."

"I can't understand it at all," said Mrs. Bradford, in helpless bewilderment.

"Then I'll tell you all about it," said Ben; and he did so.

"I shall have a high opinion of my legs from this time," he concluded, "for they have earned ten dollars in quicker time than my hands can earn twenty-five cents."

Even his aunt, in spite of her despondent mood, could not help being cheerful over such good fortune as that.

"You see, Aunt Jane, that even if I don't earn anything for the next two weeks, we shall be as well off as if I had been working at the factory all the time. So don't worry any more till that time has pa.s.sed."

"You certainly have been very fortunate, Benjamin," Mrs. Bradford was forced to admit.

A copious rain is very apt to be followed by a protracted drought, and I am sorry to say that this was the case with Ben's luck. Day after day he went about Milltown, seeking for employment, and night after night he returned home disappointed and empty-handed.

If it had depended only on himself, his courage would still have kept up; but his aunt's dismal forebodings affected his spirits. He did not find it quite so easy to wait and hope as he antic.i.p.ated.

Three weeks pa.s.sed, and Ben was painfully sensible that there was but a dollar in the house.

They had just risen from the dinner table on the day when their fortunes were at so low an ebb, when a knock was heard at the door.

A man of about thirty-five, Mr. Jotham Dobson, was admitted. Mr.

Dobson was a man with a brisk, business-like air.

"Won't you come in, Mr. Dobson?" asked Ben, who had answered the knock.

"Is your aunt at home?" inquired Mr. Dobson bruskly.

"Yes, sir."

"Then, I'll step in a minute, as I want to see her on business."

"What business can he possibly have?" thought Ben. "I wish his business lay with me, and that he wanted to employ me."

"Good morning, Mrs. Bradford," said Dobson rapidly. "No, thank you, I really haven't the time to sit down; I have a little business with you, that's all."

"Perhaps he wants to get me to do some sewing," thought Mrs.

Bradford; but she was doomed to be disagreeably disappointed.

"Perhaps you are not aware of it," said Mr. Dobson, "but I am the city collector of taxes. I've got your tax bill made out. Let me see--here it is. Will it be convenient for you to pay it to-day?"

"How much is it?" faltered Mrs. Bradford.

"Eleven dollars and eighty cents, precisely," answered the collector.

Mrs. Bradford looked so doleful that Ben felt called upon to reply.

"We can't pay it this morning, Mr. Dobson," he said.

"Really, you had better make the effort," said Dobson. "You are aware that the tax is now due, and that one per cent a month will be added for default. That's twelve per cent, a year--pretty heavy."

"What shall we do, Benjamin?" asked his aunt, in a crushed tone.

"Wait and hope, Aunt Jane."

"My friends," said Mr. Dobson persuasively, "I really think you'd better make the effort to pay now, and so avoid the heavy interest."

"Perhaps," said Ben, "you'll tell us how to pay without money?"

"You might borrow it."

"All right! I am willing. Mr. Dobson will you be kind enough to lend us twelve dollars to meet this bill?"

Mr. Dobson's face changed. It always did when any one proposed to borrow money of him, for he was what people called a "close" man.

"I really couldn't do it," he answered. "Money's very scarce with me--particularly scarce. It's all I can do to pay my own taxes."

Ben smiled to himself, for he knew how the application would be answered.

"Then of course we can't pay at present," he said. "We've tried to borrow, and can't."

"I didn't expect you'd try to borrow of me--the tax collector," said Dobson; "even if I had the money, it would be very unprofessional of me to lend you the money."

"It would be very unprofessional of us to pay you without money,"

returned Ben.

"I suppose I must call again," said the collector, disappointed.

He was disappointed less for the city than for his own account, for he received a percentage on taxes collected.

"I suppose you must."

"Benjamin, this is awful," said Mrs. Bradford piteously, after Mr.

Dobson had retired. "What is going to become of us? The city will sell the house for taxes."

"They'll wait a year first, at any rate, Aunt Jane; so we won't fret about it yet. There are other things more pressing."

"If we don't get some money within a day or two, we must starve, Benjamin."

"Something may turn up this afternoon, Aunt Jane. Wait and hope!"

Ben put on his hat and went out. In spite of his cheerful answer, he felt rather sober himself.