brown bread and vegetables, and even called on his wife to get some of that “apple sass” for the young stranger.

The boy was hungry, and the food was, after all, wholesome, and he stowed away a quantity that surprised himself, if not his host.

When supper was eaten, Mr. Noman pushed back his chair and abruptly asked his guest:

“Who air ye?”

“Matt Rives,” promptly replied the boy.

“That’s a kinder cur’us name, now, ain’t it?” questioned Mr. Noman. “I dunno any Riveses round here. Where be ye from?”

“I came from New York State,” replied Matt, with the air of one who had studied his answer, but it seemed for some reason to be very satisfactory to his questioner.

“Any parents?” next inquired Mr. Noman.

“No, sir—nor brothers nor sisters. I’ve no one but myself to look out for.”

“I guess ye ain’t used to farm work, be ye?” now inquired Mr. Noman, doubtingly, and looking at Matt’s hands, which were as white and soft as a lady’s.

“No, sir; but I’m willing to learn,” assured Matt.

“Of course ye can’t expect much in the way of wages,” remarked Mr. Noman, cautiously.

“No, not until I can do my full share of work,” replied Matt, indifferently.

A light gleamed for a moment in Mr. Noman’s eyes.

“I might give ye ten dollars a month an’ board, beginnin’ the fust of next month, ye to work round for yer board till then,” he ventured.

“Very well,” responded the boy; and immediately after he added, “I’ve walked a good ways to-day, and if you don’t mind I’ll go to my room.”

“Perhaps we’d better draw up a paper of agreement an’ both of us sign it,” suggested Mr. Noman, rubbing his hands vigorously together, as though well pleased with himself and everybody else.

“All right, if that is your custom,” said Matt. “Draw up the paper to suit you, and I’ll sign it.”

After considerable effort, Mr. Noman produced the following document:

“On this 10th day of April, Matt Rives, a miner of New York State, agres to work for me, Thomas Noman. He’s to begin work May fust, an’ work 6 munths at 10 dollers an’ bord. He’s too work till May fust for his bord. If he quits work ’fore his time is up he’s to have no pay. To this we agre.

“Thomas Noman, on his part.”

Matt read the paper, and could scarcely suppress a smile as he signed his name under Mr. Noman’s, and, in imitation of him, added the words “on his part” after the signature.

He knew, however much importance Mr. Noman might attach to it, that as a legal document it had no special force. He simply set down the whole act as one of the whims of his eccentric employer, and gave no more thought to the matter. But it was destined to serve that gentleman’s purpose, nevertheless, until taken forcibly from him.

Mr. Noman now showed Matt up to a back room on the second floor, and, telling him that he would call him early in the morning, bade him good-night.

The room Matt had entered was bare and cold; a single chair, a narrow bedstead, a rude rack on the wall to hang his garments upon, were all it contained.

Yet it was evidently with some satisfaction that he opened his bundle, hung up the few clothes it held and prepared for bed.

As he drew the quilts over him, he murmured:

“I don’t think I ever had more uncomfortable quarters in my life, and the outlook for the next six months at least is far from encouraging. Still, I would not go back to what I have left behind for anything.”

He was tired. The rain that was now falling heavily upon the roof just over his head acted as a sedative and lulled him to sleep. But his was not an unbroken rest, for at times he tossed to and fro and muttered strange, disconnected sentences. One was:

“I know it was not he. I will pay it back to the last cent.”

After that the troubled sleeper must have had pleasanter dreams, for a smile played about his lips, and he murmured:

“It is all right now; I’ve a home at last.”

From these, however, he was rudely awakened by a gruff call:

“Matt, Matt! git up an’ come out to the barn.”

Sleepy, bewildered, he arose and groped about in the darkness for his clothing. By the time he was dressed a full consciousness of his situation had come back to him, and, with a stout heart, Matt went out to begin what was to him equally new duties and a new life.

CHAPTER II.
A LITTLE UNPLEASANTNESS.

It was still dark and the rain fell in torrents as Matt opened the kitchen door and ran hastily out to the barn, where Mrs. Noman, who was making preparations for breakfast, had told him he would find her husband.

He noticed the kitchen timepiece as he passed through the room and saw it was not yet four o’clock. Early rising was evidently one of the things to be expected in his new home.

Reaching the barn, Matt found Mr. Noman engaged in feeding a dozen or more gaunt and ill-kept cows, which seized the musty hay thrown down to them with an avidity that suggested on their part a scarcity of rations.

The same untidiness that marked the house was to be seen about the barn also, which, if anything, was in a more dilapidated condition than the former.

“Good morning, Mr. Noman. What can I do to help you?” asked Matt, pleasantly, as soon as he entered the barn.

“Hum! I don’t suppose ye can milk?” was the rather ungracious response.

“No, sir; but I’m willing to learn,” replied Matt, good-naturedly.

“Well, I’ll see about that after awhile. I s’pose ye might as well begin now as any time. But fust git up on that mow an’ throw down more hay. These pesky critters eat more’n their necks is wuth,” said Mr. Noman, kicking savagely at a cow that was reaching out for the forkful of hay he was carrying by her.

Matt obeyed with alacrity; and, when that job was finished, it was followed by others, including the milking, wherein the boy proved an apt scholar, until nearly six o’clock, when Mrs. Noman’s shrill voice summoned them to breakfast.

That meal, possibly on account of Matt’s want of the good appetite he had had the night before, seemed to him greatly inferior to his supper. The coffee was bitter and sweetened with molasses, the johnny-cakes were burnt, and the meat and vegetables cold.

He did his best to eat heartily of the unsavory food, however—partly that he might not seem to his employer over-fastidious in taste, and partly because the morning’s work had taught him that he would need all the strength he could obtain ere his day’s task was over. Stormy though it was, he felt sure Mr. Noman would find enough for him to do.

In fact, long before the first of May came, Matt realized fully the force of the words Mr. Goodenough shouted after him the night he stopped there to inquire the way to Mr. Noman’s.

Had he really known his employer and family, he certainly would not have been over-anxious to hire out to him for the season, for the dilapidated condition of the buildings, and the untidiness and disorder that marked everything about the place, were not, after all, the worst features with which Matt had to deal. He soon found that his employer was a hard, grasping tyrant, while his wife was a termagant, scolding and fault-finding incessantly from morning until night. There was not an animal on the place that escaped the abuse of the master, and not even the master himself eluded the tirades of the mistress.

Matt, by faithfully performing every task assigned him, and thus frequently doing twice over what a boy of his age should have been expected to do, tried to win the approval of both Mr. Noman and his wife. He soon found this impossible, and