The Tin Box, and What it Contained

“Have you finished breakfast already, Harry?” asked Mrs. Gilbert, as Harry rose hurriedly from the table and reached for his hat, which hung on a nail especially appropriated to it.
“Yes, mother. I don’t want to be late for the store. Saturday is always a busy day.”
“It is a long day for you, Harry. You have to stay till nine o’clock in the evening.”
“I am always glad to have Saturday come, for then I can get my money,” replied Harry, laughing. “Well, good-by, mother—I’m off.”
“What should I do without him?” said Mrs. Gilbert to herself, as Harry dashed out of the yard on the way to Mead’s grocery store, where he had been employed for six months.
That would have been a difficult question to answer. Mrs. Gilbert was the widow of a sea captain, who had sailed from the port of Boston three years before, and never since been heard of.
It was supposed that the vessel was lost with all hands, but how the disaster occurred, or when, was a mystery that seemed never likely to be solved.
Captain Gilbert had left no property except the small cottage, which was mortgaged for half its value, and a small sum of money in the savings bank, which, by this time, was all expended for the necessaries of life.
Fortunately for the widow, about the time this sum gave out Harry obtained a situation at Mead’s grocery store, with a salary of four dollars a week. This he regularly paid to his mother, and, with the little she herself was able to earn, they lived comfortably. It was hard work for Harry, but he enjoyed it, for he was an active boy, and it was a source of great satisfaction to him that he was able to help his mother so materially.
He was now fifteen years old, about the average height for a boy of that age, with a strong frame and a bright, cheerful manner that made him a general favorite.
The part of his duty which he liked best was to drive the store wagon for the delivery of goods to customers. Most boys of his age like to drive a horse, and Harry was no exception to the rule.