“It’s lucky I’ve got a little extra income,” said Ebenezer, bitterly; “now I’ve got your bills to pay.”

“I suppose I shall have to accept your offer, father,” said Eben, “for the present; but I hope you’ll think better of my California plan after a while.  Why, there’s a fellow I know went out there last year, went up to the mines, and now he’s worth five thousand dollars!”

“Then he must be a very different sort of a person from you,” retorted his father, sagaciously.  “You would never succeed there, if you can’t in Boston.”

“I’ve never had a chance to try,” grumbled Eben.

There was sound sense in what his father said.  Failure at home is very likely to be followed by failure away from home.  There have been cases that seemed to disprove my assertion, but in such cases failure has only been changed into success by earnest work.  I say to my young readers, therefore, never give up a certainty at home to tempt the chances of success in a distant State, unless you are prepared for disappointment.

When the engagement had been made with Eben, Mr. Graham called Herbert to his presence.

“Herbert,” said he, “I won’t need you after Saturday night.  My son is going into the store, and will do all I require.  You can tell him how to prepare the mails, et cetery.”

“Very well, sir,” answered Herbert.  It was not wholly a surprise, but it was a disappointment, for he did not know how he could make three dollars a week in any other way, unless he left Wayneboro.

CHAPTER V.

Eben’s scheme.

Saturday night came, and with it the end of Herbert’s engagement in the post office.

He pocketed the three dollars which his employer grudgingly gave him, and set out on his way home.

“Wait a minute, Herbert,” said Eben.  “I’ll walk with you.”

Herbert didn’t care much for Eben’s company but he was too polite to say so.  He waited therefore, till Eben appeared with hat and cane.

“I’m sorry to cut you out of your place, Herbert,” said the young man.

“Thank you,” answered Herbert.

“It isn’t my fault, for I don’t want to go into the store,” proceeded Eben.  “A fellow that’s stood behind the counter in a city store is fit for something better, but it’s the old man’s fault.”

Herbert made no comment, and Eben proceeded: 

“Yes,” said he, “it’s the old man’s fault.  He’s awfully stingy, you know that yourself.”

Herbert did know it, but thought it would not be in good taste to say so.

“I suppose Wayneboro is rather dull for you after living in the city,” he remarked.

“I should say so.  This village is a dull hole, and yet father expects me to stay here cooped up in a little country store.  I won’t stay here long, you may be sure of that.”

“Where will you go?”