only a
mother's can, she never betrayed it, but each morning sent her boy away
with a cheerful face, and each evening received him with one, which, if
less cheerful, was not less sympathetic, but she never said a word.

At the week's end, in fact, on Sunday morning, as they were walking to
church, Donald said to her: "Mother, my new clothes haven't been of the
slightest good. I've been all over Edinburgh, to every place I
could think of--writers' offices, merchants' offices, wharves,
railway-stations--but it's no use. Everybody wants to know where I've
been before, and I've been nowhere except to school. I said I was
willing to learn, but nobody will teach me; they say they can't afford
it. It is like keeping a dog, and barking yourself. Which is only too
true," added Donald, with a heavy sigh.

"May be," said Mrs. Boyd. Yet as she looked up at her son--she really
did look up at him, he was so tall--she felt that if his honest,
intelligent face and manly bearing did not win something at last, what
was the world coming to? "My boy," she said, "things are very hard for
you, but not harder than for others. I remember once, when I was only
a few years older than you, finding myself with only half a crown in
my pocket. To be sure it was a whole half-crown, for I had paid every
half-penny I owed that morning, but I had no idea where the next
half-crown would come from. However, it did come. I earned two pounds
ten, the very day after that day."

"Did you really, mother?" said Donald, his eyes brightening. "Then I'll
go on. I'll not 'gang awa back to my mither,' as that old gentleman
advised me, who objected to bark himself; a queer, crabbed old fellow he
was too, but he was the only one who asked my name and address. The rest
of them--well, mother, I've stood a good deal these seven days," Donald
added, gulping down something between a "fuff" of wrath and a sob.

"I am sure you have, my boy."

"But I'll hold on; only you'll have to get my boots mended, and
meantime, I should like to try a new dodge. My bicycle, it lies in the
washing-house; you remember I broke it and you didn't wish it mended,
lest I should break something worse than a wheel, perhaps. It wasn't
worth while risking my life for mere pleasure, but I want my bicycle now
for use. If you let me have it mended, I can go up and down the country
for fifty miles in search of work--to Falkirk, Linlithgow, or even
Glasgow, and I'll cost you nothing for traveling ex