the rock, swaying his body to and fro as he hugged his knees with
his hands, and kept his eyes fastened on the tempting display of
good things before him, it would have been a very hard hearted man
who would not have given him something.

But Mr. Job Lord, the proprietor of the booth, was a hard hearted
man, and he did not make the slightest advance toward offering the
little fellow anything.

Toby rocked himself silently for a moment, and then he said,
hesitatingly, "I don't suppose you'd like to sell me some things,
an' let me pay you when I get older, would you?"

Mr. Lord shook his head decidedly at this proposition.

"I didn't s'pose you would," said Toby, quickly; "but you didn't
seem to be selling anything, an' I thought I'd just see what you'd
say about it." And then he appeared suddenly to see something
wonderfully interesting behind him, which served as an excuse to
turn his reddening face away.

"I suppose your uncle Daniel makes you work for your living, don't
he?" asked Mr. Lord, after he had rearranged his stock of candy and
had added a couple of slices of lemon peel to what was popularly
supposed to be lemonade.

"That's what I think; but he says that all the work I do wouldn't
pay for the meal that one chicken would eat, an' I s'pose it's so,
for I don't like to work as well as a feller without any father and
mother ought to. I don't know why it is, but I guess it's because