“See what I have got, mother!” said David, as he ran into the house.
“Hush, David; you will wake up the baby,” replied his mother. “What
have you got?”
“Half a dollar,” answered David, as he put the money into his mother’s
hand.
“Why, where did you get it?”
“I earned it, mother,” said David, in a whisper, lest he should wake
little Mary. “I caught a big pickerel in the river, and I sold it to
Mr. Lee, and he gave me half a dollar for it.”
“You have done well, David; half a dollar is a great deal of money to
poor folks, like us,” replied his mother, as she took the coin. “I
will use this to buy you some clothes.”
“Don’t use it for me, mother, but for yourself. I never felt so happy
before in my life. I wish I could earn some more money.”
“Perhaps, there will be a chance by and by.”
When David went to bed that night, instead of going to sleep, he lay
awake to think of some way in which he might help his mother. If he
could only earn half a dollar every day, it would almost support the
family. But he could not think of any way, and so he went to sleep, and
dreamed about it.
When he got up the next morning, the first thing he thought of was
the half dollar he had earned the day before. School did not keep
that day, and he went down to the river to catch some more pickerel.
He got three, but they were not so large as the one he had caught the
day before. He carried them into the village, and after trying at a
dozen houses, he could find no one to buy them. He felt very bad when
he carried them home, but his mother told him he must not lose his
courage.
Mrs. White cooked the pickerel for their dinner that day, and David
said they were very good, and he did not see why no one would buy them.
After dinner David’s mother sent him to the store to get some sugar.
While the grocer was putting it up, he heard a man in the store say
they ought to have the Boston papers in Riverdale, and he did not see
why they could not be left at the people’s houses, as they were in
other places.
As he walked home, David thought he might carry the papers round and
sell them. He had heard about the boys who sold them in Boston. His
mother had seen little fellows, no bigger than he was, selling them in
the city. If he could only get them he would try the plan. His eyes
grew very bright as he thought of it.
“I will do it,” said he to himself. “At least, I will try to do it. I
will go right off and see Mr. Field, the express man, and get him to
bring me out some papers next Monday.”
When he had carried the sugar home, he started for Mr. Field’s house.
He found him at work in his garden, and told him what he wanted.
“Do you think you can sell the papers, my boy?” asked the express man.
“I can try, sir; my mother is very poor, and has to work very hard. I
want to do something to help her if I can.”
“That’s a good boy,” said the man, very kindly; “and if I can do any
thing for you I am sure I will.”
“If you will bring me the papers from Boston, I think I can sell them.”
“You shall have a chance to try, my boy. I will bring you some next
Monday. How many do you want?”
“Not many at first, sir.”
“Say twenty or thirty?”
“Yes.”
“I will bring them.”
David was so glad he hardly knew what to do with himself. He ran home
and told his mother what he had done, and she was as glad as he was
when she thought what a smart son she had, and how anxious he was to
help her.
Monday came; David was at the railroad station when the train came, and
Mr. Field gave him the papers. David took them under his arm. How his
heart beat with fear lest he should not be able to sell them! But he
meant to work very hard, and he felt almost sure that he should sell
them.
There were two dozen papers. They cost fifteen cents a dozen, or thirty
cents for the whole. At two cents each, they would come to forty-eight
cents. This would leave David a profit of eighteen cents, and this
would do very well for a start.
“What have you got there, boy?” said a gentleman.
“The Journal, sir. Two cents each,” replied David, taking one of the
papers from under his arm.
“Give me one;” and the man handed him two cents.
“Thank you, sir.”
“I want one every day.”
“Very well, sir; I shall be glad to sell you one every day.”
“You may leave it at my house.”
He pointed out his house to David, and he told him he would leave one
there every day.
The little merchant was cheered by this sale. It was a good start, and
he felt sure that almost every man in the place would want a paper.
Pretty soon he came to the grocery store, and he went in to follow up
his good luck. There were six or seven men in the shop besides the
keeper.
“Buy the Journal, sir? Only two cents. Got all the news in it,” said
David, showing the paper to the storekeeper.
“Is that you, David?” asked the man.
“Yes, sir; don’t you want a paper?”
“I do; I am very glad to get one;” and the man handed him two cents,
and took a Journal.
“Thank you, sir,” said David, for his mother had told him he must be
polite to all with whom he had dealings.
“You have gone into business--have you, David?” added the man, with a
smile.
“Yes, sir; I am trying to do something to help my mother.”
“That’s a good boy. You will find plenty of people to buy your papers,
for they all want them.”
David sold five papers in the store, and with a light heart he ran over
to the great shoe shop on the other side of the road. A great many men
were at work there, and when the little merchant told them he was
selling papers to help his mother, nearly every one of them bought a
paper, and he had only six left when he went out of the shop.
Five of these were sold in a short time, and he had only one left. He
felt sure that Flora Lee’s father would want one, and he saved this one
for him. He found Flora in the garden playing with the great dog, and
he told her what he had been doing. She felt a deep interest in the
little hero, and when he had told his story, she led him to her father.
Mr. Lee took his last paper, and wished him to bring him one every day.
How happy David was then! He had “sold out,” and had made eighteen
cents. But he was an honest boy, and he went at once to Mr. Field’s
to pay for his papers, and to speak for some more the next day. The
express man said he had done well, after he had told his story, and
thought he could sell as many as four dozen papers the next day.
David ran home, and told his mother all about it. She was as glad as he
was at his success. She was pleased, not only because he had made some
money, but because he had tried so hard to do something for her.
Eighteen cents is a very small sum, it is true, but the poor widow
could think of a great many little comforts which it would buy. But if
her son could earn this sum every day, it would be a real blessing to
her; for it would supply the whole family with good clothing. Do you
wonder that Mrs. White was proud of her son?
[Illustration]
[Illustration: JOE BUCK IN TROUBLE.]