“Perhaps I can lengthen them out, Grant.”
“You did it six months ago. There is no more chance. No, I’ll tell you what I am going to do. I’ll ask Mr. Tarbox for a new suit, and as it is my birthday, perhaps he will open his heart and be generous for once.”
“It is a good plan, Grant. There he is now, out by the well curb.”
“Then I’ll speak at once. Wish me luck, mother.”
“I do, my son. I heartily wish you good luck now and always.”
Grant opened the side door, and went out into the yard. Seth Tarbox looked up, and his glance fell upon his step-son.
“Come here, Grant,” he said, “I want you to turn the grindstone while I sharpen my scythe.”
“Wait a minute, Mr. Tarbox. I want to speak to you.”
“Go ahead! You can speak if you want to,” said Tarbox, slightly surprised.
“A boy of sixteen ought to do a great deal of work. Why, you are ’most a man.”
“I do a good deal of work, Mr. Tarbox, but I don’t seem to get much pay for it.”
“Hey? You want pay? Why, don’t you get your victuals and clothes?”
“I get my victuals, yes. But I don’t get clothes, and that is just what I want to speak to you about.”
Mr. Tarbox began to grow uneasy. He knew what was coming.
“What have you got on, I’d like to know?” he inquired.
“Some rags and overalls,” answered Grant bluntly.
“They’re good enough to work in. You’ve got a suit to wear Sundays.”
“Have I? It’s hardly fit to wear common days. Why, it’s a year since I had the suit, and I’ve outgrown it.”
“I’m afraid you’re getting proud, Grant,” said his step-father uneasily.
“I’m not proud of my clothes, I can tell you that. Mr. Tarbox, I’ve worked for you the last year early and late, and I think I ought to have a new suit. It will make a nice birthday present.”
“Money’s very skerce, Grant,” said his step-father uneasily, “and clothes are very high. I gave twelve dollars for that last suit of yours. It came hard. Think how long it takes to earn twelve dollars. I haven’t had a suit myself for ten months.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Grant,” said Mr. Tarbox, with a bright idea. “You’re ’most as big as I am. You’re unusually large for your age. I’ll buy a new suit for myself, and give you mine. Your mother can fix it over to fit you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Tarbox,” he said, “but I don’t want to wear your old clothes. If I can’t have a new suit I don’t want any.”