"Waal, she didn't say much," answered the deacon slowly; "but I
guess she hasn't no objections."
"Didn't she say that I had an awful appetite?" asked Ben, smiling.
"She said you was pretty hearty," answered the deacon, rather
surprised at Ben's penetration. "Boys should curb their appetites."
"I don't think I could curb mine," said Ben thoughtfully.
"I guess there wouldn't be any trouble about that," returned the
deacon, whose meanness ran in a different channel from his wife's,
and who took less note of what was eaten at his table. "Ef you think
you'd like to engage, and we could make a bargain, you might begin
next week."
"Jest so," said Ben.
The deacon looked at him rather sharply, but Ben didn't appear to
intend any disrespect in repeating his favorite phrase.
"Did your father leave you much?" inquired Deacon Pitkin.
"A few hundred dollars," said Ben carelessly.
"Indeed!" said the deacon, gratified. "What are you goin' to do with
it?"
"Uncle Job thinks it would be best to put it in the bank."
"Jest so. It would fetch you some interest every year-enough to
clothe you, likely. I'll tell you what I'll do, Ben. I'll give you
your board the first year, and your interest will buy your clothes.
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