“I will try other things first,” said Herbert.  “How would you like some fish for dinner, mother?  My time isn’t of any particular value, and I might as well go fishing.”

“Do so, Herbert.  It will save our buying meat, which, indeed, we can hardly afford to do.”

Herbert felt that anything was better than idleness, so he took his pole from the shed, and, after digging a supply of bait, set out for the banks of the river half a mile away.

Through a grassy lane leading from the main street, he walked down to the river with the pole on his shoulder.

He was not destined to solitude, for under a tree whose branches hung over the river sat a young man, perhaps twenty-five years of age, with a book in his hand.

CHAPTER VI.

Herbert’s good luck.

“Good-morning,” said the young man, pleasantly.

“Good-morning,” answered Herbert, politely.

He recognized the young man, though he had never seen him before, as a visitor from the city, who was boarding at the hotel, if the village tavern could be so designated.  He seemed to be a studious young man, for he always had a book in his hand.  He had a pleasant face, but was pale and slender, and was evidently in poor health.

“I see you are going to try your luck at fishing,” said the young man.”

“Yes, sir; I have nothing else to do, and that brings me here.”

“I, too, have nothing else to do; but I judge from your appearance that you have not the same reason for being idle.”

“What is that, sir?”

“Poor health.”

“No, sir; I have never been troubled in that way.”

“You are fortunate.  Health is a blessing not to be overestimated.  It is better than money.”

“I suppose it is, sir; but at present I think I should value a little money.”

“Are you in want of it?” asked the young man, earnestly.

“Yes, sir; I have just lost my place in the post office.”

“I think I have seen you in the post office.”

“Yes, sir; my mother had charge of the office till two weeks since, when it was transferred to Mr. Graham.  He employed me to attend to the duties, and serve the customers in the store, till Saturday night, when I was succeeded by his son, who had just returned from the city.”

“Your mother is a widow, is she not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I know where you live; I have had it pointed out to me.  Your father served in the war, did he not?”

“Yes, sir; and the injuries he received hastened his death.”

The young man looked thoughtful.  Then he said:  “How much did Mr. Graham pay you for your services?”

“Three dollars a week.”

“That was not—­excuse the question—­all you and your mother had to depend upon, was it?”

“Not quite; mother receives a pension of eight dollars per month.”