"We shall both starve, Fitz!" cried his mother.
"On the contrary, mother, we shall soon be in possession of that block of stores, with an income of five or six thousand a year," added Fitz, complacently.
"The boy's an idiot!" exclaimed the banker, as he took his hat, and rushed out of the house.
CHAPTER XI.
THE MOUSE BUSINESS.
While Maggie Maggimore took upon herself the blessed task of nursing the barber, Leo charged himself with the duty of providing for the wants of the family. Each had assumed all that one person could be expected to achieve. It was no small thing for a girl of fifteen to take the entire care of a helpless invalid; and it was no small thing for a boy of fifteen to take upon himself the task of providing for the expenses of the house, and the medical attendance of the sick man.
It would have been much easier for Leo to fail in his assumed task than for Maggie to do so. Even a young man of so much importance as Fitzherbert Wittleworth, upon whom the salvation of the great house of Checkynshaw, Hart, & Co. seemed to depend, toiled for the meagre pittance of five dollars a week. Leo had some acquaintance with the late clerk in the private office of the banker, and he had listened with wonder to the astounding achievements of Fitz in the postal and financial departments of the house. Of course Mr. Wittleworth would be a partner in the concern as soon as he was twenty-one, if not before; for, besides his own marvellous abilities, he had the additional advantage of being a relative of the distinguished head of the concern.
Leo was abashed at his own insignificance when he stood in the presence of the banker's clerk. If such an astonishing combination of talent as Mr. Wittleworth possessed could be purchased for five dollars a week, what could he, who was only a mere tinker, expect to obtain? Half that sum would have been an extravagant valuation of his own services, under ordinary circumstances. But beneath the burden which now rested upon him, he felt an inspiration which had never before fired his soul; he felt called upon to perform a miracle.
He was born with a mechanical genius, and he felt it working within him. There was no end of wooden trip-hammers, saw-mills, and other working machines he had invented and constructed. Under the pressure of the present necessity he felt able to accomplish better things. Something must be done which would produce fifteen, or at least ten, dollars a week. It was no use to think it couldn't be done; it must be done. It looked like a species of lunacy on his part to flatter himself that it was possible to make even more than a journeyman mechanic's wages.