“Oh, he saves it up,” replied Ronald; “he doesn’t spend a cent of it; and when he gets a lot together, he puts it in the bank. He’s earning money all the time—I never see such a fellow. Why, he’s round by day-break, every morning, now, after greens—he sells them over to the village, and picks up lots of change, that way. There, I never thought of it before—I mean to pick some greens, and see if I can’t sell them, and get some money to pay my note. Will you buy them, mother?”
“I’ll buy as many as we can use,” replied Mrs. Page; “but if you are as industrious as Charlie is, I can’t promise to take all you bring.”
“Oh, I never shall be as industrious as he is,” said Ronald; “or at any rate, I never shall pick up money as fast as he does.”
“I shouldn’t like to have you do just as Charlie Doane is doing, if you could,” added Mrs. Page. “I like to see children industrious, and it is well enough for them to earn a little money for themselves, occasionally; but when I see them very eager to get money to hoard up, and never spending a cent, if they can help it, I’m afraid they are training themselves to be selfish, close-fisted worshippers of money. I should tremble for Charlie, if he were my boy.”
“His father praises him up to a great rate, for earning so much money, and saving it up so close,” said Otis. “I was in Mr. Todd’s store, the other day, when he was telling about it. He said Charlie would be a rich man, yet.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Doane, himself, thinks too much of his money,” continued Mrs. Page.
“Mr. Doane?” said Marcus, apparently awakening from a reverie; “he’s a complete miser. When old Mrs. Lane lost her cow, and the people were making up a subscription to buy her another, everybody thought that as Mr. Doane sold the cow to her only a little while before, and made a good profit on it, he would put his name down for five dollars, at least; but he refused to give a single cent towards it. And yet he’s worth fifteen thousand dollars, at the least calculation. He’s an old miser, and it’s my opinion Charlie will be another, if he lives.”
“You’re rather free in your remarks,” said Mrs. Page, smiling. “Do you remember the article in the ‘Wreath,’ a month or two ago, about speaking evil of our neighbors?”
“Yes, ma’am, I remember it,” replied Marcus, “and I believe I’ve only carried out its doctrine. If I recollect right, it took the ground that we ought not to speak of the faults of another, except for a good object. Now I had a good object in saying what I did about Mr. Doane. Charlie’s miserly example had evidently made quite an impression on Ronald, and it was necessary to hold up Mr. Doane’s character in its true light, to counteract that impression. That’s all I did.”
“Well, mother,” said Ronald, “you buy my greens, and I wont hoard up my money. I’ll pay my note, first, and then I’ll buy one of those new-fashioned caps that Ed Baldwin has got. I wish I could have one of those caps, before examination day.”