the low footstool that always stood near grandma's old chair. "I've had so many plans in my head lately, that sometimes it seems as if it would split," continued the poor fellow, rubbing his tired forehead, as if to polish up his wits. "I've thought seriously of going to California, Australia, or some out-of-the-way place, where men get rich in a hurry."
"Oh, no!" cried Polly, putting out her hand as if to keep him, and then snatching it back again before he could turn round.
"It would be hard on mother and the girls, I suppose; besides, I don't quite like it myself; looks as if I shirked and ran away."
"So it does," said Polly, decidedly.
"Well, you see I don't seem to find anything to do unless I turn clerk, and I don't think that would suit. The fact is, I couldn't stand it here, where I'm known. It would be easier to scratch gravel on a railroad, with a gang of Paddies, than to sell pins to my friends and neighbors. False pride, I dare say, but it's the truth, and there's no use in dodging."
"Not a bit, and I quite agree with you."
"That's comfortable. Now I'm coming to the point where I specially want your advice, Polly. Yesterday I heard you telling Fan about your brother Ned; how well he got on; how he liked his business, and wanted Will to come and take some place near him. You thought I was reading, but I heard; and it struck me that perhaps I could get a chance out West somewhere. What do you think?"
"If you really mean work, I know you could," answered Polly, quickly, as all sorts of plans and pro-
