him.

"Tell me, Jason," he urged gently, "what money?"

Jason still torn with occasional sobs, managed to tell the story.

"_Harper's Monthly_," exclaimed Brother Wilkins. "Dear! Dear! I had
hoped you'd give the money to a foreign mission, Jason."

"Foreign mission!" cried Jason's mother. "Well, I guess not! Jason's
education is going to be taken care of before the heathen."

"But how'll we get the extra dollars?" asked Brother Wilkins,
helplessly.

"I'll manage," replied Jason's mother, her gentle voice a little louder
than usual.

"Then let us eat supper," said Jason's father, clearing his throat for
grace.

Jason's mother sold a girlhood treasure, a little silver-tipped
hair-pin, to the storekeeper's wife, the following Monday, for two
dollars, and the jubilant Jason exchanged the single bills for a single
note. The note was cut in two and sent in separate letters to New York,
this being the before the war method of safeguarding loss of money in
the mail. There was a period of several weeks of waiting during which
Jason met every mail. Then a third letter was sent by Jason's mother,
asking why the delay, and telling Jason's little story.

Jason met the return packet, his heart now high, now low. He had met so
many futile packets since the first of September. But this time there
was a letter explaining that but one-half of the note had arrived in New
York, but that on faith, the editors were sending the back numbers of
the magazine requested and that the rest of the year's subscription
would follow. And Jason never did know whether or not the second half of
the note arrived.

And there they were, a fat pile of magazines! Jason clasped them in his
arms and rushed home with them. A tag tail of boys followed him and by
nightfall most of the town knew that Jason Wilkins had four numbers of
_Harper's Monthly_ on hand.

Jason was out milking the cow when Mr. Inchpin arrived.

"Heard Jason had some new magazines in hand. Don't s'pose you could lend
me a few, over night?"

Jason's mother was in the kitchen. It was donation party night and she
had been cooking all day in preparation.

"Surely, surely," said Jason's father, picking up the pile of magazines.
"Jason can't get at them before the end of the week. Take them and
welcome."

Mr. Inchpin rode away. Jason came in with the milk pail and the family
sat down to a hasty supper.

"Won't I have a minute of time to look at my magazines, mother?" asked
Jaso