At the end of the week Dick was able to go out, and he felt so well that he insisted that he be allowed to sell papers.
"I don't think you're able to," objected Jimmy.
"Oh, yes, I am. Besides, I want to earn some money. I've been quite an expense to you."
"Crimps! I don't mean that. But that's nothing. Look what you did for me. I'm ever so much better off since I met you."
"I am glad you think so, but you must have had to draw some of our savings out of the bank for medicine and things, and I want to put it back so we can purchase that stand before Christmas, if possible."
"Oh, Christmas is quite a ways off. Besides, I only used about five dollars from the bank. Business has been very good lately, even with paying Frank and Sam a commission."
Since Dick's illness Jimmy had developed quite a business talent, and as he could now read and write some, he attended to matters connected with their little bank account, putting some in and at times drawing a dollar or so out, as it was needed.
Though Jimmy insisted that Dick take a rest before beginning to sell papers, the latter would not hear of it. The next day he started out with his bundle as usual, glad to be back at business once more. He was welcomed by many of his former customers, who remembered him, and he sold a large number of papers.
"How do you feel?" asked Jimmy that night when the partners were in their room.
"Pretty good, only a little tired. My, what a lot has happened since that night I thought you were hurt!"