“So you’ve had a hard time to get along, have you?” The voice held a tender note; but, on inspection, Blue found the eyes to be as sharp as before.
“Pretty hard, sir.” There was no response, and the boy, remembering his mother’s last injunction, went on, with a rueful little laugh, “Breakfast ran short this morning, and I stayed out o’ school to see if I couldn’t find a job. Mother’s been lookin’ all day.”
“Find anything?”
Blue told briefly of his morning’s nickel, as well as of his mother’s ill success and her increasing indebtedness at the market.
“Well, we are under great obligations for the service you rendered the city this afternoon, and there’s a little something for your supper,” thrusting a bank bill into his hand. “You can tell your mother that it looks now as if the backbone of the strike was broken. We’ve got the leaders of the trouble locked up, and I guess the silver folks and their other hands will come to terms in a hurry. Tell her, too, that we congratulate her on having a son that’s got a head on his shoulders.”
Blue, red-faced and embarrassed, with stammering thanks, slipped quickly from the presence of the brusque chief, and dashed towards home.
His mother met him at the top of the stairs.
“All right!” he shouted. “Just see that!” He flourished his reward, his eyes rounding from his sudden discovery. “My, if ’t ain’t a five!”
Granny, who had lingered to give consolation in case it should be needed, came hobbling forward.
“Bluey, me b’y, I knew ye’d niver do annything that wud grave yer mother’s heart, an’ it’s proud I am o’ ye!” Granny’s hard old hand caught Blue’s little wiry one in a grip more emphatic than her words.