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“It’s worth more, Mr. Fillmore,” he said.

“Not to me,” responded Old Thomas drily. “I’ve plenty more land and I’m an old fellow without any sons. I ain’t going to pay out money for the benefit of some stranger who’ll come after me. You can take it or leave it at sixteen dollars.”

Ellis shrugged his shoulders. He had no prospect of anything else, and sixteen dollars were better than nothing. “Very well, I’ll take it,” he said.

“Well, now, look here,” said Old Thomas shrewdly, “I’ll expect you to do the work thoroughly, young man. Them roots ain’t to be cut off, remember; they’ll have to be dug out. And I’ll expect you to finish the job if you undertake it too, and not drop it halfway through if you get a chance for a better one.”

“I’ll finish with your elderberries before I leave them,” promised Ellis.

* * * * *

Ellis went to work the next day. His first move was to chop down all the brush and cart it into heaps for burning. This took two days and was comparatively easy work. The third day Ellis tackled the roots. By the end of the forenoon he had discovered just what cleaning out an elderberry pasture meant, but he set his teeth and resolutely persevered. During the afternoon Timothy Robinson, whose farm adjoined the Fillmore place, wandered by and halted with a look of astonishment at the sight of Ellis, busily engaged in digging and tearing out huge, tough, stubborn elder roots. The boy did not see his uncle, but worked away with a vim and vigour that were not lost on the latter.

“He never got that muscle from Sam,” reflected Timothy. “Sam would have fainted at the mere thought of stumping elders. Perhaps I’ve been mistaken in the boy. Well, well, we’ll see if he holds out.”

Ellis did hold out. The elderberries tried to hold out too, but they were no match for the lad’s perseverance. It was a hard piece of work, however, and Ellis never forgot it. Week after week he toiled in the hot summer sun, digging, cutting, and dragging out roots. The job seemed endless, and his progress each day was discouragingly slow. He had expected to get through in a month, but he soon found it would take two. Frequently Timothy Robinson wandered by and looked at the increasing pile of roots and the slowly extending stretch of cleared land. But he never spoke to Ellis and made no comment on the matter to anybody.

One evening, when the field was about half done, Ellis went home more than usually tired. It had been a very hot day. Every bone and muscle in him ached. He wondered dismally if he would ever get to the end of that wretched elderberry field. When he reached home Jacob Green from Westdale was there. Jacob lost no time in announcing his errand.

“My hired boy’s broke his leg, and I must fill his place right off. Somebody referred me to you. Guess I’ll try you. Twelve dollars a month, board, and lodging. What say?”

For a moment Ellis’s face flushed with delight. Twelve dollars a month and permanent employment! Then he remembered his promise to Mr. Fillmore. For a moment he struggled with the temptation. Then he mastered it. Perhaps the discipline of his many encounters with those elderberry roots helped him to do so.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Green,” he said reluctantly. “I’d like to go, but I can’t. I promised Mr. Fillmore that I’d finish cleaning up his elderberry pasture when I’d once begun it, and I shan’t be through for a month yet.”

“Well, I’d see myself turning down a good offer for Old Tom Fillmore,” said Jacob Green.

“It isn’t for Mr. Fillmore–it’s for myself,” said Ellis steadily. “I promised and I must keep my word.”