“So I do! Didn’t I promise to give ten dollars to the Fund for the trophy, Bert? Ten dollars isn’t so easy to make, either. Of course I don’t want your quarter if you begrudge it to me—”
“Well, I do,” growled Bert.
“But I’d hate to have to say that you’re the only fellow in House who hasn’t helped me.” And Kid smiled sweetly.
Bert glared at him a moment. Then his sense of humor came to his rescue and he grinned. “You’re a wonder, Kid!” he exclaimed. “Well, all right, I’ll take your old smelly tablets and I’ll give you a quarter for them some time. But I’ll get even with you, Kid, some day, don’t worry.”
“It’s only a quarter,” said Kid soothingly, “and you know you have a whole dollar saved—”
“I have, eh? Well, you don’t get any of that dollar, Kid. You’ll just wait now until I get some more money, you—you little Shylock!”
The next day it became known to the day pupils that Kid Fairchild was selling throat tablets to pay his tuition at school and support his starving family. By evening Kid had disposed of the last of his boxes and had five dollars and seventy cents rattling around in the bottom of a collar-box in his bureau drawer. He was still thirty cents short because Bert persisted in owing him and one of the day boys had passed a Canadian twenty cent piece on him in lieu of a quarter. But Kid was well satisfied with the results of his excursion into trade. The only fly in the ointment of his contentment was the realization that if he purchased a further supply of Tinkham’s Throat-Ease he would have to go to the village to sell it. Those of the fellows who had given the tablets a fair trial were anything but enthusiastic over their taste and Kid despaired of securing reorders. Meanwhile that five dollars and seventy cents was occasioning him a good deal of uneasiness. It wasn’t that Kid feared having it stolen. The trouble was that he had never been a believer in the hoarding of wealth. In Kid’s judgment money was meant to spend, and to go to bed night after night with all those quarters and dimes and nickels lying idle in the bureau drawer was excruciating torment to him. Of course he fully meant to send two dollars of it to the Tinkham Chemical Company to pay for the tablets, and he also meant to add twenty cents for another four dozen boxes of the remedy, but if Kid hated to see the money lying there idle he hated even more to see any part of it devoted to such base ends as the payment of just debts. And while he still hesitated Fate took a hand and the matter was decided for him.
On Saturday morning Doctor Merton summoned Kid to his office and complimented him. He had heard, he explained, of the unfortunate trouble that had overtaken James’s family and hoped sincerely that their embarrassment would prove only temporary. Meanwhile he thought James was showing much courage and enterprise in seeking to aid them by the sale of—was it Tinker’s Hair Balsam? No? Ah, Tinkham’s Throat-Ease! Well, in any case, he congratulated James on his thoughtfulness and was sure that his parents—and he was going to write to them and acquaint them with the circumstances—would be touched by the manly course James was pursuing. And—er—if James had any more of the excellent liver pills he would gladly purchase a package. Kid regretted that he hadn’t and embarrassedly withdrew. Outside, Nan, who had been waiting for him, slipped a quarter into his hand.
“Oh, Kid,” she whispered, “I think you’re just splendid. Mr. Folsom told us all about it last evening. You’re just as—as brave and—and manly as can be! And I want some of the—the medicine things, too, Kid and there’s my quarter! And——”
“I ain’t got any more,” sighed Kid sadly, looking longingly at the coin. “So I guess you’d better take this back——”