"Mr. Sands told me I might go;
he wouldn't have me at any rate. Wasn't that cool? Well, well; if
they don't know their own interest, they must bear the
consequences. If they fail, or lose all their trade, they can't
blame me for it. Now I have nothing to do; and I was just
thinking whether my friend the mayor couldn't help me into a
situation."
"I dare say he can. Why don't you call and see him at once?"
"I don't like to do so. He sees so many persons that I really
don't think he would recollect me. I must get something to do,
though; for my father is sick, and winter is coming on."
"How much salary did you get, Master Simon?" asked Katy, who
highly approved his determination not to be a burden upon his
father.
"Two dollars and a half a week."
"Is that all!"
"Yes; they ought to have given me ten. Even that was better than
nothing."
"I was thinking of something, Master Simon," said Katy, after a
pause.
"What, Katy?"
"I make four or five dollars a week."
"Is it possible!"
"If you have a mind to sell candy, I will furnish you all you
want, so that you can make at least three dollars a week."
The lip of Master Simon slowly curled, till his face bore an
expression of sovereign contempt. He rose from his seat, and
fixed his eyes rather sternly upon the little candy merchant, who
began to think she had made a bad mistake, though all the time
she had intended to do a kind act.
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