"Something'll have to be done," said Merry; and he put his elbows on the table, and dropped his chin into his palms.
Beside Merry's elbows stood the remains of a very scanty breakfast. The remains were scanty too, consisting of a single roasted potato, a dish of salt, and a bit of bread. This was all the food there was in the little brown house by the creek where America Andrew and his mother lived. The rent, too, was a whole quarter in arrears, and Mr. Colley, their landlord, was beginning to screw up his lips and frown whenever he met them.
So, with all this in mind, it was small wonder that Merry, with his elbows on the table and his chin in his palms, decided "Something'll have to be done!"
"Yes," said Mrs. Andrew, looking into Merry's bright face which poverty had not been able to make a whit less plump or rosy, as if in hopes to catch a gleam of sunshine there.
Merry saw this, for he smiled a brave, bright smile back into his mother's faded blue eyes and care-worn face.
"Now don't you worry, mother. Summer's coming right along. Folks will be wanting their yards cleaned up. Mrs. Quipp told me last night, you know, if I'd clean hers up she'd have Mr. Quipp give credit for twenty-five cents on the grocery account. I'll go now, and I'll bring you half—the biggest half—of my dinner, sure."
With that Merry left a kiss on his mother's cheek, for he hadn't got over showing that he loved her very dearly, and trudged away up the hill, whistling "Bonnie Dundee" in his own merry way.
When he had left the gate a little way behind he heard the whistle of the down train, and it occurred to him that he would go round by way of the station and see if there wasn't a portmanteau to carry for somebody. There was not much hope of it, since the occasional stranger which the on-going train dropped into the sleepy old town usually preferred to carry his own luggage. But to-day, strange to relate, a gentleman stood on the platform with a large portmanteau in one hand, and a still larger valise in the other.
"Hello, my man!" he called; "can you give me a lift?"
"Yes, sir," answered Merry, shouldering the portmanteau and trying to appear as if carrying large packages were an every-day affair with him. This one, however, happened to be very heavy, even for its size, and he shifted it once or twice uneasily. The strange gentleman looked down at him with a quizzical twinkle, which Merry did not see.