the wrist.

Dan, Junior, was a wiry little scamp, and he twisted and turned,
and kicked and squalled, and Hiram was just wrenching the orange
from his hand when Mr. Dwight came to the door.

"What's this? What's this?" he demanded. "Fighting, are ye?
Why don't you tackle a fellow of your own size, Hi Strong?"

At that Dan, Junior, saw his chance and broke into woeful sobs.
He was a good actor.

"I've a mind to turn you over to a policeman, Hiram," cried
"Mr. Dwight, That's what I've a mind to do."

"I suppose you'll discharge me first, won't you?" suggested
Hiram, scornfully.

"You can come in and git your money right now, young man," said
the proprietor of the Emporium. "Dan! let them oranges alone.
And don't you go away from here. I'll want you all day to-day.
I shall be short-handed with this young scalawag leaving me in
the lurch like this."

It had come so suddenly that Hiram almost lost his breath. He
had part of his wish, that was sure. He was not likely to work
for Daniel Dwight any longer.

The old man led the way back to his office. He had a little pile
of money already counted out upon the desk. It was plain that