Making His Mark

by Jr. Horatio Alger

"Oh, no, I am only an ordinary boy," he replied.

"I understand now why John Nugent sent you to me. Are you sure you are only sixteen."

"Quite sure."

"And I am sixty-six! What a difference!"

In truth, Thomas Nixon looked ten years older than he really was. It was partly sickness, and partly want of nourishing food and cheerful companionship.

"We will have you looking younger soon," said Gerald, cheerfully. "And, now, don't you think it is almost time for dinner?"

"I—I think I could eat something," said the old man, slowly. "It is long since I have had an appetite, but now I almost feel hungry. You—you may get a loaf of bread and some butter at Mr. Loche's store."

"Leave that matter in my hands, Mr. Nixon. I suppose you won't mind my spending a little money?"

"No, no. Take a gold piece from the box, and buy what you like."

Gerald found a small hotel at which many of the miners boarded, and engaged two dinners to be sent over to their new home. When the food arrived he set out the table and properly arranged it.