g of having not appreciated what she had
done. The doctor had spoken to him kindly.

"My boy," he said, "this comes to all of us. Your father passed as
gently as he lived. Remember, there's no sorrow nor suffering where he
has gone and--be good to your mother."

It was not until after the funeral that John and his mother talked of
the life before them. He told her that they would not have to leave
their little home, that he would quit school and find work so they could
go on together.

"Dearest, dearest mother, you shall be with me always," he said to her.
But she replied:

"We owe a heavy debt, John, that must be paid at once."

He saw she was worrying over the expense of his father's funeral. He
knew how sensitive she was about debts.

"I can get money somewhere, dearest mother," he said. "Don't worry."

"But where?"

"Somewhere--I'll get it. Please, oh, please don't think about it any
more."

He could tell, however, that she could not put it out of her mind. There
was a look about her eyes that told him it weighed upon her. It
disappeared when he held her in his arms and comforted her; she tried
bravely to hide it from him, but it was there, in his mind, haunting
him.

He came to his decision about the money for the funeral director
quickly. He told her he was going to look for work and went to George
Blake at his Spring street gymnasium. Blake, an instructor in boxing,
had seen him spar in amateur bouts and had taken him in tow. He boxed
because he liked it; never with a thought of ever fighting for money.
Only a month before he had refused an offer of a bout at Jack Doyle's
Vernon arena.

"George," he said, "can you get me a bout at Vernon?"

"What's the big idea?" asked Blake with a smile.

"I need the money."

"How soon?"

"As soon as I can get it."

"I'll see Wad Wadhams, tonight," Blake said. "If there's a place on the
bill I'll get it for you."

The next day Blake called him to the gymnasium.

"You'll go on in the preliminaries," he said. "Two hundred if you win, a
hundred if you draw and fifty if you lose. How's that?"

"That means I must win," John said.

In his pocket as he spoke was the funeral director's bill for $200.

"You'd better get to work right now, then," cautioned Blake. "You're
matched with a tough boy, but if you're in any sort of shape at all you
should come out on top."

They went to work. As he roughed it with the young fellows Blake sent
against him he thought