service like a girl! He couldn't do it, and he wouldn't. But even in his
fierce young indignation he restrained himself. He had suffered so much
of late that he was growing very careful about inflicting suffering upon
others, especially upon his mother. He covered his eyes with his hand
and sat quite still for a few moments before he inquired, "What did you
tell her?"

"I told her I'd ask you, Pat. Only that." The boy wheeled round in the
old Windsor chair in which he sat, threw his arms over the top of its
back and buried his face. They had been in town now six weeks. Pat had
learned by his experience in cooking how fast supplies went in a large
family. Two weeks before, the generous contributions of their country
neighbors had given entirely out, and Pat, as marketer, had learned how
much money it took to buy with. Four dollars a week would not, could
not, support the family even in summer time. Hard knowledge was this for
a boy of fifteen to have, and hardly had it been learned. If he went,
there was Jim Barrows and his set with more jeers and insults which he
must not avenge. If he did not go--all at once he remembered that ride
home from Wennott with his mother, when he had asked her what he could
do and what Mike could do to help. Was this the answer? Was he to live
out like a girl, and Mike to take his place with the work at home?

He lifted his face, and his blue eyes had a pleading look that went to
the widow's heart. "Mother, tell me what I must do," he said.

"I can't, Pat dear. You must say for yoursilf."

There was loving sympathy in look and tone, but the little woman's
determination was clear. Pat must decide for himself. And the young head
went down again.