Dick the Bank Boy | Page 4

every night sewing long after I've gone to bed. Why, one night, you remember I woke up and it was after twelve, yet you were still sewing. You are getting thin and careworn, mother. Do you think I don't notice it? And do you imagine I can stand it right along? There has got to be a change, that's all. I've made my mind up."
She looked into his resolute face, and seeing the love that shone in his eyes felt that after all her burdens could not be so hard when Heaven had given her such a stalwart son to be the staff of her old age.
"And what have you decided, Dick? Will you get after that company and force them to begin paying dividends again? I think that would be a blessing to more widows than one; but I'm afraid it would prove a task beyond your strength, dear," she said, patting him on the head as he stood beside her, almost three inches taller than his mother.
"No, I don't think I could manage that, but there is one thing I can and will do and that is to find a job, so that I can be bringing in something every week to help out. Then you needn't sit up at night as you do. Please don't say anything against it, mother. I've made up my mind to it. The vacation has begun, and unless things take a turn for the better, school and Dick Morrison have parted company for good. I'm only sorry I don't seem to have inherited any of father's genius for tools, or I could get a position as an assistant to Mr. Plane, the carpenter. But I've been considering the situation, and I'm going to find some way to bring in a few dollars each week, even if I have to set out to be a fisherman."
She smiled with pride, and in that moment the fond mother did not envy the wife of the rich department store keeper who rode about in her carriage and delighted to let other people realize just how small and mean they appeared in her sight.
"Well, it is nice to hear you say all that, Richard, for it tells me that your heart is true, and that no matter what befalls I can depend on my boy's love. But there's no use crossing a river before we come to it. I shall offer no opposition to you doing any honest work that comes your way during vacation; and if times have not improved when school opens again, I suppose I must endure the thought of your continuing on. You have always been a lucky fisherman, and what you bring home has been so sweet and palatable that it seems to me you could easily find purchasers for all you could catch," she said, leaving him, to begin to look after the supper that was cooking on the stove.
"Only if everything else fails can I try that," he explained. "You see one can't depend on the fish to do their part of the contract. Some days they refuse to bite at all, and then other days are stormy. But I've got several ideas that I'm bound to try out, and I'm going to start to-morrow."
That was all he said, for Dick never liked to boast in advance of what he expected to accomplish, having learned from sad experience that very often a snag is apt to sink the craft freighted with hopes, and when least expected.
He busied himself setting the table, while his mother lighted the lamp and prepared to serve their frugal meal.
It was a time of year when very little came in from the small garden that lay back of the house, and which they took care of in common, Dick doing all the hard work and his mother some of the weeding; later on they expected that the proceeds from this patch would provide many a good meal, should the weather smile upon their united efforts.
Being naturally a boy who looked upon the bright side of things, as a healthy lad might be expected to do, Dick had proved a blessing to his mother times without number.
He laughed and chatted as they sat at the table, and for the time being the poor little woman really forgot that there was such a thing as anxiety in this world.
Even the little encounter with Ferd was related with more or less humor; and yet while Mrs. Morrison found herself compelled to smile at Dick's quaint description of the way in which Ferd over-leaped himself, at the same time a shade of worry crept over her face.
"Oh! I hope he will not tell his father about it and try to lay the blame on your shoulders," she said, sighing.
"But why