"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 offan 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 haveto 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 atHiram 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 Hiram, and he walked into the back room, took off his apron, and got into his coat.
He had it in mind to go to the big market, where the farmers drove in from out of town, and see if he could meet one of his old neighbors, or anybody else who could tell him of prospect of work for the coming season. It was early yet for farmers to be looking for extra hands; butHiram hoped that he might see something in prospect for the future. He had made up his mind that, if possible, he would not take another job in town.
"And I can see pretty plainly that I've got about through at the Emporium," he thought, as he approached the open space devoted by the City of Crawberry to a market for the truckmen and farmers who drove in with their wares from the surrounding country.
At this time of day the bustle of market was over. The farmers would have had their breakfasts in the little restaurants which encircled the market-place, or would be preparing to drive home again. The hucksters and push-cart merchants were picking up "seconds" and lot-ends of vegetables for their trade. The cobbles of the market-place was a litter of cabbage leaves, spilled sprouts, spoiled potatoes, and other refuse.
Hiram walked about, looking for somebody whom he knew; but most of the faces around the market were strange to him. Several farmers he spoke to about work; but they were not hiring hands, so, when his hour was up, he went back to the Emporium, more despondent than before.
