"Say, couldn't ye jest make an exception this time, boys?" he pleaded.
"I'll feel right hurt if I ain't 'lowed to help on this business some.
Wot's a hundred dollars beside the new speerit ye've managed somehow to
start up in me? If ye need more, by gum! ye kin hev it! I ain't no hog,
if I hev let the people think so this long time."

"Sorry to say so, Mr. Growdy, but we can't accept. Besides, we have all
earned enough money now to pay for what we need, and expect to send away
to-morrow to get our suits," Paul went on; and even while he was talking
a bright idea came flashing into his brain.

"Wall, now that's jest too bad, boys. I'd calkerlated to spend that
hundred on doin' a good deed, an' ye make me go back home with the same
hugged tight in my pocket. I'm sorry it cain't be did, I am, sure,"
muttered the farmer, shaking his head, and acting like a child that has
been cheated out of some anticipated pleasure.

"That doesn't follow, Mr. Growdy," said Paul, in a low but thrilling
voice; "if you have set your mind on using that hundred dollars to do a
good work, perhaps I might give you a hint where it would fit in mighty
well, and make your heart feel warm."

"Hey! wot's that, Paul? I don't understand," exclaimed the man.

"Down just beyond the outskirts of Stanhope there lives a poor widow
woman who, I'm told, is in danger of being put out of her home any day
now because she has been sick and unable to work so as to pay her rent.
If you went to her right now, Mr. Growdy, and put that wad of money in
her hand, I'm sure you'd never regret it, sir; and every boy here would