with a very serious face, and said

"What can a small boy do to earn money?"

"Why do you ask, my deary?"

"My father told me to take care of mother and the little girls, and I
want to, but I don't know how to begin."

"He did not mean now, Demi, but by and by, when you are large."

"But I wish to begin now, if I can, because I think I ought to make some
money to buy things for the family. I am ten, and other boys no bigger
than I earn pennies sometimes."

"Well, then, suppose you rake up all the dead leaves and cover the
strawberry bed. I'll pay you a dollar for the job," said Aunt Jo.

"Isn't that a great deal? I could do it in one day. You must be fair,
and no pay too much, because I want to truly earn it."

"My little John, I will be fair, and not pay a penny too much. Don't
work too hard; and when that is done I will have something else for you
to do," said Mrs. Jo, much touched by his desire to help, and his sense
of justice, so like his scrupulous father.

When the leaves were done, many barrowloads of chips were wheeled from
the wood to the shed, and another dollar earned. Then Demi helped
cover the schoolbooks, working in the evenings under Franz's direction,
tugging patiently away at each book, letting no one help, and receiving
his wages with such satisfaction that the dingy bills became quite
glorified in his sight.

"Now, I have a dollar for each of them, and I should like to take
my money to mother all myself, so she can see that I have minded my
father."

So Demi made a duteous pilgrimage to his mother, who received his little
earnings as a treasure of great worth, and would have kept it untouched,
if Demi had not begged her to buy some useful thing for herself and the
women-children, whom he felt were left to his care.

This made him very happy, and, though he often forgot his
responsibilities for a time, the desire to help was still there,
strengthening with his years. He always uttered the words "my father"
with an air of gentle pride, and often said, as if he claimed a title
full of honor, "Don't call me Demi any more. I am John Brooke now."
So, strengthened by a purpose and a hope, the little lad of ten bravely
began the world, and entered into his inheritance, the memory of a wise
and tender father, the legacy of an honest name.

CHAPTER XX. ROUND THE FIRE

With the October frosts came the cheery fires in the great fireplaces;
and Demi's dry pine-chips helped Dan's oak-knots to