So he felt undecided as to what he should attempt, and all the way home he pondered over the situation, determined to do something to chase away the look of concern which every now and then he saw gathering on his mother's gentle face, when she did not dream that he was observing her.
"She doesn't want me to know how hard things are growing," he mused. "She thinks of me all the time, and is the dearest little mother in the world. I'd give up anything for her, and I'm going to find a position somewhere, somehow. That's settled. There's got to be more money coming in through the door of the Morrisons, and it's up to Richard to set the stream in motion."
His resolution was all very well, but it was not so easy to decide where this fountain could be tapped that was to pour its tiny golden stream into their almost empty reservoir.
Again and again he shook his head resolutely as he trudged along, and the expression on his face was that of one who has made up his mind and will not allow himself to be turned aside by any obstacle; it was the look of a winner, and when his mates saw Dick Morrison set his teeth in that determined way they knew he was bound to lead his side to victory, no matter what the opposition.
Dick presently drew near the little cottage in which he and his mother had lived ever since he could remember, and which, with its flower garden, was as pretty a spot as one could find along the river road just outside the town.
Thinking only of showing a cheery face to the one who had ever been his best friend and counsellor on earth he tried to forget his worries, and starting to whistle merrily opened the gate and passed up the walk.
CHAPTER II
A MOTHER WORTH FIGHTING FOR
Perhaps had Dick been less noisy as he came up the walk he might have caught his mother in tears; for he felt sure he detected the signs of recent weeping upon her thin face as he entered and threw the package he was carrying on the table.