"Mrs. Casey," cried Tom, eagerly, "I will do everything that Dick did.
I will sell the potatoes and beans, and will drive Mr. Brown's cows to
pasture."

Mrs. Casey shook her head incredulously, but Tom bravely kept his
word. For the next few weeks Tom was at his post bright and early, and
the garden was never kept in better order. And every morning Tiger and
Tom stood faithfully in the market-place with their baskets, and never
gave up, no matter how warm the day, till the last vegetable was sold,
and the money placed faithfully in Mrs. Casey's hand.

Tom's father often passed through the market, and gave his little son
an encouraging smile, but he did not offer to help him out of his
difficulty, for he knew if Tom struggled on alone, it would be a
lesson he would never forget. Already he was becoming so gentle and
patient, that every one noticed the change, and his mother rejoiced
over the sweet fruits of his repentance and self-sacrifice.

After a few weeks the bandages were removed from Dick's hands, but
they had been unskilfully treated, and were drawn up in very strange
shapes. Mrs. Casey could not conceal her grief. "He will never be the
help he was before," she said to Tom, "he will never be like other
boys, and he wrote such a fine hand, now he can no more make a letter
than that little chicken in the garden."

"If we only had a great city doctor," said a neighbor, "he might have
been all right. Even now his fingers might be helped if you should
take him to New York."

"Oh, I am too poor, _too poor_," said she, and burst into tears.