XIII.
_WHAT TO DO NEXT._
When Dave Fletcher became a clerk with Mr. Tolman, he knew he was takingthe place of another who might come back in three months, and back hedid come.
"Sorry, David, I haven't a place for you," said Mr. Tolman.
"Well," replied Dave, "if there isn't a place here I must find oneelsewhere."
But where? He knew that his father did not need him at home, as he hadalready made plans for all needed farm-work.
"I don't want to go home and be just a burden, hanging round," reflectedDave. "Then I must find work here."
He talked over the situation with Dick Pray.
"What would I do, Dave? Well," said Dick, putting his hands deep downin his pockets, "I should advertise and--wait."
"I mean to advertise, but I think I had better stir round also."
"Just as well to say you want something--say it loud and strong, youknow--and then let others ask what is wanted."
Dick did like to sound a trumpet, giving as loud a blast as possible,and then let the world run up and see what "Lord Dick" wanted.
"Oh, I shall advertise, and stir round also, though I don't just fancyit, and I can't say what will come from it."
And what did come the first day?
Nothing.
The second day?
Nothing.
The third day?
Nothing.
"It is getting to be fearfully tiresome," said Dave the fourth day. "Ihave inquired in all directions, but I can't seem to hear of anything.Oh dear! I shall always know after this how to pity folks out of work.Well, I suppose I must keep at it. If I stop, I shall surely getnothing; if I keep at it, I may be successful. Here goes for SquireSylvester, though I don't know why I should ask him."
He mounted the steps leading to the door of Squire Sylvester's office,and hesitatingly entered that impressive business sanctum. SquireSylvester was standing at his desk biting the end of a lead-pencil, andstudying the columns of figures on the paper before him.
"Squire Sylvester, do--do--you know of any vacant situation inbusiness?" asked Dave.
The squire looked up.
"Humph! Nothing to do?"
"Can't find it, sir."
"Well, I wish I could find somebody to work for me."
"Have you anything?" asked Dave eagerly, thinking how nice it would beto occupy a desk in the squire's office and assist in the management ofsuch business enterprises as the building of ships or the sailing ofthem.
"I have been trying to find somebody to cut up some wood for me and stowit away, but I can't get hold of any unoccupied talent."
Dave's countenance dropped. It went up again, though.
"It will pay a week's board, maybe," he said to himself.
"I--I'll take that job, sir. I know how to swing an axe, and I'd ratherbe doing that than go loafing about."
"Good! I thought there was some stuff in you worth having."
Dave disregarded this compliment, and asked, "When shall I go to work?"
"Any time. Saw is behind the chopping-block in my shed, hung on a nail,or ought to be; and axe, I guess, is keeping the company of the block."
"I will begin to-day. There will be a comfort in knowing I am doingsomething."
"That is a good spirit, young man; and let me assure you if you stick tothat style of doing things, some day you will be able to take comfort--alot of it."
The squire went to the window of the office when Dave had left, andwatched him cross the street in the direction of the squire's home.
"I like that young chap," murmured the squire.
Dave found the house of his employer, left word at the door that he wassent to look after the wood, and went into the shed.
"Here is the chopping-block, and there is the axe, and the saw is allright. I will take my tools outdoors, where my wood is," said Dave.
It was a day in early spring. Snow still clung to the corners ofgardens, and hid away under the bushes, and lay thick on the shaded sideof buildings. The sun, though, was strengthening its fires every day,and had coaxed a few bluebirds to come north, and say that warm weatherhad surely started from its southern home, and would be here in dueseason, though a bit delayed, perhaps. Two hours later, Dave's axe wasstriking music out of the pieces of wood the saw had first played a tuneon; and it is that kind of music that helps a man to feel independentand self-reliant, contented and cheerful.
"Hollo! that you?" sang out a voice. "How are you, old man?"
Dave looked up, and saw Dick Pray nodding over the fence.
"The old man has found work, you see," replied Dave.
"None of that sort for me," sang out Dick.
In about half-an-hour another voice was calling to him across the gardenfence. This was not the flexible, smooth, rounded voice of youthaddressing Dave, but there were the tones of an old man. There was aworld of friendship, though, in this old man's salutation, "How d'ye do?how d'ye do?"
Dave turned toward it, and there was the old light-keeper, Toby Tolman.
"May I come in?" asked the light-keeper, approaching the gate.
"Oh yes, sir, do! Glad to see you."
The light-keeper came up the gravelled walk, approached the pile, andsaid, "How much more of a job have you got?"
"Oh, a couple of days."
"Well, then, do you want another?"
"Yes, sir. But how did you know I was here?"
"May, my granddaughter, knew, and she told me. I was at the house, yousee. My job for you is to go to the lighthouse and be my assistant.She told me, and I said to myself, 'There's the man for me!'"
"You don't mean it! Why, where's Timothy Waters?"
"Got all through."
"His time up?"
"Well, he went before he wanted to. Wasn't just particular in reckoningwhat belonged to others."
Dave recalled at once the little affair about the two pennies.
"Who's at the light now, Mr. Tolman?"
"Oh, an old hand, who is just piecing me out at this time when I needhelp. He leaves day after to-morrow. Now, come! I'm up here trying tolook somebody up to be my assistant. Can't bring it about at once; butif you'll go and stay a while I think you'll get the berth, and I don'tknow of anybody I'd like better to have."
"And I should like to come, too, and I will, just as soon as I finishthis job."
"Maybe the squire would let you off now."
"I daresay."
"I'd like to take you back with me to-day."
"And I'd like to go, but I'd better finish up."
"You're right, on second thought. The squire wouldn't hesitate amoment, I venture to say; but then people sometimes grant us favourswhen at the same time they say to themselves, 'I wish they hadn't askedme.' You stay and finish your job."
The second day after this the task was completed, the saw going to itsplace on the nail behind the chopping-block, and the axe findingquarters near by.
"There!" said the squire: "I don't know that I ever paid for a job withgreater satisfaction."
He was handling a roll of bills as he said this, and handed one of theseto Dave.
"It is too much, sir."
"Oh no. That was a peculiar pile of wood, and it took a peculiar kindof merit to get the better of it. For ordinary wood," said the squire,his eyes blinking, "I should only pay an ordinary price; but this woodwas something more than ordinary, and of course the price goes up. WhenI can do you a favour, you let me know."
That day toward sunset a dory was gently tossing at the foot of thelighthouse on Black Rocks.
"Hollo!" shouted Dave, looking up from the boat and aiming his voice atthe door above.
"Oh, that you?" asked the light-keeper, quickly appearing in the doorwayand looking down. "My man will be here in a jiffy and go home in yourboat, as we fixed it, you know."
Dave exchanged the boat for the lighthouse, and the retiring assistantquit the
lighthouse for the boat, then rowing to his home. Dave heardthat night the wind humming about the lantern, saw the friendly raysbeckoning from other lighthouses, heard the wash of the waves around thegray tower of stone, and felt that he had reached a home.