Just take your traps, and come along with me.
Mrs. Fox will have supper ready by the time we come."
Harry was not, on the whole, attracted by the appearance of his
guardian. There was a crafty look about the eyes of Mr. Fox which
seemed to make his name appropriate. He surveyed his young ward
critically.
"You're pretty well grown," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"And look stout and strong."
"I believe I am both."
"My boy, Joel, is as tall as you, but not so hefty. He's goin' to be
tall like me. He's a sharp boy--Joel."
"By the way, you didn't write how much property your father left."
"After the funeral bills are paid, I presume there'll be only about
three hundred dollars left."
Mr. Fox stopped short and whistled.
"Father hadn't much talent at making money," said Harry, soberly.
"I should say not. Why, that money won't last you no time at all."
"I am old enough to work for a living. Isn't there something I can
find to do in Colebrook?"
"I guess I can give you work myself--There's always more or less to do
'round a place. I keep a man part of the time, but I reckon I can let
him go and take you on instead. You see, that will count on your
board, and you don't want to spend your money too fast."
"Very well, sir.
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