“How did you learn?”
“She taught me.”
“But this isn’t boys’ work any more than washing dishes.”
“Why not? Doesn’t a boy sleep in a bed and eat his food from dishes? Why shouldn’t he do such work if it’s to save some one better than he is? Mrs. Schmitz for instance?”
“That’s right. But doesn’t it make you feel a little—sissylike?”
“The manliest chap I know, Billy To-morrow—Billy Bennett—isn’t ashamed to do any sort of work to save his mother and sisters. They used to be poorer than they are now.”
Max said nothing for a time. Then he broke out with, “How did you come to this snug berth anyhow?”
Sydney told him that Mr. Streeter had seen Mrs. Schmitz’s advertisement of a good home for a boy who would be steady, do a little light work, and be company for her at night. “She wasn’t afraid, never was; but she told Mr. Streeter she wanted some one to look at across the table when she ate.”
Max went to the window and looked out a moment, then he whirled and strode back to Sydney. “Here! Show me how you do everything! I will learn—beat you to it pretty soon—if I can.” He laughed almost joyously and Sydney felt only sincerity in it. “I’m going to accept her offer of a home till I get over this cough; but it shall not be for nothing. If I can’t render service for value received, I’ll—” His face darkened to a thought Sydney saw he had entertained before. “I’ll put this mug where it won’t need feeding.”