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Timothy Crump's Ward - A Story of American Life by Horatio Alger
page 8 of 215 (03%)
my part. Everything goes topsy-turvy, and all sorts of ways except
the right way. I sometimes think 'taint much use livin'."

"Oh, you'll feel better by and by, Rachel. Hark, there's Jack, isn't
it?"

"Anybody might know by the noise who it is," pursued Rachel, in the
same general tone that had marked her conversation hitherto. "He
always comes _stomping_ along as if he was paid for makin' a noise.
Anybody ought to have a cast-iron head that lives anywhere in his
hearing."

Her cheerful remarks were here broken in upon by the sudden entrance
of Jack, who, in his eagerness, slammed the door behind him,
unheeding his mother's quiet admonition not to make a noise.

"Look there!" said he, displaying a quarter of a dollar.

"How did you get it?" asked his mother.

"Holding horses," answered Jack.

"Here, take it, mother. I warrant you'll find a use for it."

"It comes in good time," said Mrs. Crump. "We're out of flour, and I
had no money to buy any. Before you take off your boots, Jack, why
can't you run over to the store, and get half a dozen pounds?"

"You see the Lord hasn't quite forgotten us," remarked his mother,
as Jack started on his errand.
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