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He told Aunt Sarah about it at the supper table and Aunt Sarah, instead of expressing disapproval, appeared much pleased. Only, she insisted, the work mustn’t be allowed to interfere with his studies. Joe assured her that it wouldn’t, since he would have his evenings free. After supper he went upstairs, opened the mahogany desk and wrote a long letter to his mother. He tried to make it sound very brave and cheerful, but I don’t think Mrs. Faulkner had much difficulty in reading between the lines and reaching the conclusion that Joe was a little bit homesick and lonely and that he missed her a lot. He told about his interview with Mr. Dennison and about the employment he had secured.

“It pays only three dollars,” he wrote, “but it won’t take more than an hour and a half or two hours and I won’t have to work on Sunday because the Recorder doesn’t have any Sunday edition. I’m going to pay two and a half of it to Aunt Sarah every week and so you won’t have to send her very much, will you? I’d give it all to her, but I guess I’d better keep a half-dollar out for pocket-money. Then you won’t have to send me any money. After a while I’m going to get something to do that will pay me more and maybe then you won’t have to send Aunt Sarah a cent. Aunt Sarah looks like she would bite my head off if I brought any dirt into the house on my shoes and she talks mighty crusty, but I guess she’s a pretty good sort after all. She had Amanda cook me a bully apple pudding for dinner today. I’m pretty sure she did it on my account, because she didn’t touch it herself. Amanda is a funny old woman who does the cooking and so on. She’s about sixty, I guess, and hasn’t but three or four teeth and sort of mumbles when she talks. When I say anything to her she looks scared and beats it.