ttention to
serious things, that he was not fond of fun; that he could not or did
not play. At a game of round ball, he was a lucky fellow who secured
him upon his side; for the same energy which made him a useful son
rendered him a desirable hand in a difficult game.

When the supper things were all removed, the dishes washed and put
away, Bobby drew out his pocket memorandum book. It was a beautiful
article, and Mrs. Bright was duly astonished at its gilded leaves and
the elegant workmanship. Very likely her first impulse was to reprove
her son for such a piece of reckless extravagance; but this matter was
set right by Bobby's informing her how it came into his possession.

"Here is my ledger, mother," he said, handing her the book.

Mrs. Bright put on her spectacles, and after bestowing a careful
scrutiny upon the memorandum book, turned to the accounts.

"Fifty books!" she exclaimed, as she read the first entry.

"Yes, mother; and I sold them all."

"Fifty dollars!"

"But I had to pay for the books out of that."

"To be sure you had; but I suppose you made as much as ten cents a
piece on them, and that would be--let me see; ten times fifty--"

"But I made more than that, I hope."

"How much?"

The proud young merchant referred her to the profit and loss account,
which exhibited a balance of fifteen dollars.

"Gracious! Three dollars a day!"

"Just so, mother. Now I will pay you the dollar I borrowed of you when
I went away."

"You didn't borrow it of me."

"But I shall pay it."

Mrs. Bright was astonished at this unexpected and gratifying result.
If she had discovered a gold mine in the cellar of the little black
house, it could not have afforded her so much satisfaction; for this
money was the reward of her son's talent and energy. Her own earnings
scarcely ever amounted to more than three or four dollars a week, and
Bobby, a boy of thirteen, had come home with fifteen for five days'
work. She could scarcely believe the evidence other own senses, and
she ceased to wonder that he talked big.

It was nearly ten o'clock when the widow and her son went to bed, so
deeply were they interested in discussing our hero's affairs. He had
intended to call upon Squire Lee that night, but the time passed away
so rapidly that he was obliged to defer it till the next day.

After breakfast the following morning, he hastened to pay the intended
visit. There was a tumult of strange emotions in his boso