have some split."
"Of course. But I really don't know of anyone in the neighborhood that we could get."
"John."
"John has gone away. You know why."
"Perhaps he wouldn't kiss us if we told him not to," suggested Sophia.
"I am afraid you are a goose," said Priscilla, composedly.
"Just so," slipped out of Sophia's mouth from force of habit, but her sister was so used to hearing it that she took no particular notice of it on the present occasion.
It was just at this time that Andy, released from his severe and unrequited labor for Deacon Jones, came by. He saw the wood being unloaded in the back yard, and an idea struck him.
"Maybe I can get the chance of sawin' and splittin' that wood. I'll try, anyway. I wonder who lives there?"
He immediately opened the front gate, and marching up to the front door, knocked vigorously.
"There's somebody at the door," said Sophia.
"Perhaps it's John come back," said Priscilla. "I am afraid of going to open it. He might want to kiss me again."
"I'll go," said Sophia, rising with unwonted alacrity.
"He might want to kiss you."
"I'll tell him not to."
"We'll both go," said Priscilla, decisively.
Accordingly, the two sisters, for mutual protection, both went to the door, and opened it guardedly. Their courage returned when they saw that it was only a boy.
"What do you want?" asked Priscilla.
"Just so," chimed in Sophia.
"You've got a load of wood in the back yard," commenced Andy.
"Just so," said Sophia.
"Do you want it sawed and split?"
"Just so," answered the younger sister, brightening up.
"Can you do it?" inquired Priscilla.
"Try me and see," answered Andy.
"You're not a man."
"Just so," chimed in her sister.
"Faith, and I soon will be," said Andy. "I can saw and split wood as well as any man you ever saw."
"What is your name?"
"Andy Burke."
"Are you a—Hibernian?" inquired Priscilla.
"I don't know what you mane by that same," said Andy, perplexed.
"To what nation do you belong?"
"Oh, that's what you want, ma'am. I'm only an Irish boy."
"And you say your name is Burke?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Are you related to Burke, the great orator? He was an Irishman, I believe."
"Just so," said Sophia.
"He was my great-grandfather, ma'am," answered Andy, who had never heard of the eminent orator, but thought the claim would improve his chances of obtaining the job of sawing and splitting wood.
"Your great-grandfather!" exclaimed Priscilla, in astonishment.
"Really, this is most extraordinary. And you are poor?"
"If I wasn't I wouldn't be goin' round sawin' wood, ma'am."
"Just so," said Sophia.
"To think that the grandson of the great Burke should come to us for employment," said Priscilla, who was in some respects easily taken in. "I think we must hire him, Sophia."
"Just so."
"Perhaps he could take John's place altogether."
"Just so."
"I must find out whether he understands gardening."
"Just so."
Andy stood by, waiting patiently for the decision, and hoping that it might be favorable. Of course, it was wrong for him to tell a lie, but he thought his engagement depended upon it, and, although a very good boy in the main, he was not altogether perfect, as my readers are destined to find out.
CHAPTER VII ANDY OBTAINS A PLACE
"Do you understand the care of a garden?" asked Miss Priscilla.
"Yes," answered Andy, promptly.
"Then you are used to agricultural labor?"
"I've been workin' on a farm all summer."
"Our man has just left us, and we must hire somebody else."
"Just so," chimed in Sophia.
"And if you are competent–"
"Just so."
"Try me," said Andy.
"I really think we'd better, Sophia," said Priscilla, turning to her sister.
"Just so."
"We'll try you for a week. What compensation do you require?"
"Is it wages you mane?"
Of course, Sophia was the speaker.
"How much did you give the man you had before me?" asked Andy, shrewdly.
"Twenty-five dollars a month and board."
"That'll suit me," said Andy, audaciously.
At the farmer's for whom he had been working he had received board and a dollar a week.
"But you are a boy. Men folks get more than boys."
"I'll do as much work as he did any day," said Andy, stoutly.
"I really don't know what to say. I think we'll give you five dollars the first week, and then we will decide about the future."
"Just so," said Sophia.
"I'm to eat here?" inquired Andy.
"Yes, you will make your home here. We will put you in John's room."
"When shall I begin?"
"We shall need some wood split at once."
"All right, ma'am; but it's dinner time. I'll just go home and get a bite to keep up my strength."
"You can have your dinner here. It will be ready in half an hour."
"Just so."
"All right," said Andy; "I'm agreeable."
"Do you live in the village?"
"I do now. My mother lives up the road a bit."
"Very well. Go and split some wood, and we'll call you in to dinner.
You'll find the ax and the saw in the shed."
Andy found the articles referred to, and straight-way went to work. He was really a "smart boy to work," as the phrase is, and he went to work with a will. He was greatly elated at having secured so profitable a job. He meant to give satisfaction, so as to keep it. Five dollars a week and board seemed to him a magnificent income, and compared very favorably with his wages at Farmer Belknap's, where he had been working all summer.
"It's lucky I came here," he said to himself, as he plied the saw energetically; "but what queer old ladies they are, especially the one that's always sayin' 'just so.' If I'd tell her I'd got fifty-seven grand-children I'll bet she'd say, 'Just so.'"
Miss Sophia was looking out of the back window to see how their new "man" worked. Occasionally Priscilla, as she was setting the table, glanced out of the window in passing.
"He takes hold as if he knew how," she observed.
"Just so," responded her sister.
"I think he works faster than John."
"Just so."
"It's very strange that he should be the great-grandson of the great Burke."
"Just so."
"And that he should be sawing