“Just so.”

“I’ll propose it to him.”

So, after supper, as Andy was going out into the woodshed for an armful of wood, Miss Priscilla stopped him.

“Were you ever in Boston, Andy?” asked she.

“No, ma’am.”

“I wish you had been.”

“Why, ma’am?”

“Because I should like to send you there on some business.”

“I’ll go, ma’am,” said Andy, eagerly.

Like most boys of his age, no proposition could have been more agreeable.

“Do you think you could find your way there, and around the city?”

“No fear of that, ma’am,” said Andy, confidently.

“We generally go ourselves, as you know, but my sister is sick, and I don’t like to leave her.”

“Of course not, ma’am,” said Andy, quite approving any plan that opened the way for a journey to him.

“We own bank stock, and on the first of April they pay us dividends.  Now, if we send you, do you think you can get to the bank, get the money, and bring it back safe?”

“I’ll do it for you, ma’am,” said Andy.

“Well, I’ll think of it between now and next week.  If we send you at all, you must start next Monday.”

“I’ll go any day, ma’am,” said Andy, “any day you name.”

Miss Priscilla finally decided to send Andrew, but cautioned him against saying anything about it, except to his own family.

On Monday morning, just before the morning train was to start, Andrew appeared on the platform of the modest village depot with a small carpetbag in his hand, lent him by the Misses Grant.

“Give me a ticket to Boston,” said he to the station master.

Godfrey Preston, who was about to return to his boarding school, had just purchased a ticket, and overheard this.  He didn’t much care to speak to Andy, but his curiosity overcame his pride.

“Are you going to Boston?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Andy.

“What are you going for?”

“Important business.”

“Has Miss Grant turned you off?”

“She didn’t say anything about it this morning.  Why, do you want to take my place?”

“Do you think I’d stoop to be a hired boy?” said Godfrey, haughtily.

“You wouldn’t need to stoop,” said Andy; “you ain’t any too tall.”

Godfrey winced at this.  He was not tall of his age, and he wanted to be.  Andy had been growing faster than he, and was now, though scarcely as old, quite two inches taller.

“It makes no difference about being tall,” he rejoined.  “I am a gentleman, and don’t have to work for a living like you do.”

“What are you going to be when you grow up?”

“A lawyer.”

“Then won’t you work for money?”

“Of course.”

“Then you’ll be a hired man, and work for a living.”

“That’s very different.  When are you coming back?”

“When I’ve finished my business.”