“Four dollars a week.”

“He’ll be a sight of trouble,” said the lady; but there was something in her tone that satisfied Ford that she was favorably inclined to the proposal.

“Oh, no, he won’t.  He’s so small that you can twist him round your finger.  Besides, Abner will be company for him.  He will be with him most of the time.”

“Say five dollars and it’s a bargain,” said Mrs. Barton.

Ford hesitated.  He did not care to spend more than he was obliged to, but it was of importance to obtain at least a temporary refuge for the boy, of whose care he was heartily tired.  It seemed to him that five dollars would be enough to support the whole family in the style in which they were apparently accustomed to live.  However, it was politic to make the sum sufficient to interest these people in retaining charge of the boy.

“Well,” he said, after a pause, “it’s more than I expected to pay, but I suppose I shall have to accept your terms.  I conclude Mr. Barton will not object to your taking a boarder?”

“Oh, Joel is of no account,” returned Mrs. Barton, contemptuously.  “I run this house!”

Willis Ford suppressed a smile.  He could easily believe from Mrs. Barton’s appearance that she was the head of the establishment.

“There’s one thing more,” added Mrs. Barton; “you’re to pay the money to me.  Jest as sure as it goes into Joel’s hands, it’ll go for drink.  The way that man carries on is a disgrace.”

“I should prefer to pay the money to you,” said Ford.

“You’ll have to pay somethin’ in advance, if you want the boy to have anythin’ to eat.  I’ve got to send to the village, and I haven’t got a cent in the house.”

Willis Ford took out a pocketbook.  Extracting therefrom four five-dollar bills, he handed them to Mrs. Barton.

“There’s money for four weeks,” he said.  “When that time is up I’ll send you more.”

Mrs. Barton’s eyes sparkled, and she eagerly clutched the money.

“I ain’t seen so much money for years,” she said.  “I’ll jest look out Joel don’t get hold of it.  Don’t you tell Joel or Abner how much you’ve paid me.”

“I’ll take care of that, Mrs. Barton.  By the way, I must caution you not to believe any of the boy’s stories.  He’s the son of a friend of mine, who’s put him under my care.  The boy’s weak-minded, and has strange fancies.  He thinks his name isn’t Sam Green, and that his father is rich.  Why, only the other day he insisted his name was George Washington.”

“Land’s sake!  How cur’us!” “Of course; you won’t pay any attention to what he says.  He may take it into his head to run away.  If he does, you must get him back.”

“You can trust me to do that!” said Mrs. Barton, with emphasis.  “I ain’t goin’ to let no five-dollar boarder slip through my fingers!”

“That’s well!  Now I must be going.  You will hear from me from time to time.”