oing into business for himself. But he had full faith in his ability
to work out a useful and profitable, if not a brilliant life. He often
said that Bobby was worth his weight in gold, and that he would trust
him with any thing he had. Perhaps he did not suspect that the time
was at hand when he would be called upon to verify his words
practically; for it was only that morning, when one of the neighbors
told him about Bobby's stopping the horse, that he had repeated the
expression for the twentieth time.

It was not an idle remark. Sixty dollars was hardly worth mentioning
with a man of his wealth and liberal views, though so careful a man as
he was would not have been likely to throw away that amount. But as a
matter of investment,--Bobby had made the note read "with
interest,"--he would as readily have let him have it, as the next
richest man in the place, so much confidence had he in our hero's
integrity, and so sure was he that he would soon have the means of
paying him.

Bobby was overjoyed at the fortunate issue of his mission, and he
walked into the room where his mother was closing shoes, with a dignity
worthy a banker or a great merchant. Mrs. Bright was very sad.
Perhaps she felt a little grieved that her son, whom she loved so much,
had so thoughtlessly plunged her into a new difficulty.

"Come, cheer up, mother; it is all right," said Bobby in his usual
elastic and gay tones; and at the same time he took the sixty dollars
from his pocket and handed it to her. "There is the money, and you
will be forever quit of Mr. Hardhand to-morrow."

"What, Bobby! Why, where did you get all this money?" asked Mrs.
Bright, utterly astonished.

In a few words the ambitious boy told his story, and then informed his
mother that he was going to Boston the next Monday morning, to commence
business for himself.

"Why, what can you do, Bobby?"

"Do? I can do a great many things;" and he unfolded his scheme of
becoming a little book merchant.

"You are a courageous fellow! Who would have thought of such a thing?"

"I should, and did."

"But you are not old enough."

"O, yes, I am."

"You had better wait a while."

"Now or never, mother! You see I have given my note, and my paper will
be dishonored, if I am not up and doing."

"Your paper!" said Mrs. Bright, with a smile.

"That is what Mr. Wing, the boot manufacturer, calls it."

"You needn't go away to earn this money; I can pay it myself."

"Th