"Do so, sonny, and I'll wait for you here."

Thomas swung open the plank door, and entered the cabin.

It was about twenty feet one way by thirty the other. It had three small
windows, a deal floor, and the spaces between the logs of which it was
built were filled in with clay. It was certainly an humble dwelling, and
the chances are that not one of my young readers is so poor as not to
afford a better. Yet, it was not uncomfortable. It afforded fair
protection from the heat of summer, and the cold of winter, and was
after all far more desirable as a home than the crowded tenements of our
larger cities, for those who occupied it had but to open the door and
windows to breathe the pure air of heaven, uncontaminated by foul odors
or the taint of miasma.

"Mother," said Thomas, "Mr. Conrad wants to hire me to work on his farm,
and he is willing to pay me twelve dollars a month. May I go?"

"Ask Mr. Conrad to come in, Thomas."

The farmer entered, and repeated his request.

Mrs. Garfield, for this was the widow's name, was but little over
thirty. She had a strong, thoughtful face, and a firm mouth, that spoke
a decided character. She was just the woman to grapple with adversity,
and turning her unwearied hands to any work, to rear up her children in
the fear of the Lord, and provide for their necessities as well as
circumstances would admit.