It was a beautiful article, and Mrs.Bright was duly astonished at its gilded leaves and the elegant workmanship.

Very likely her first impulse was to reprove her son for such a piece of reckless extravagance; but this matter was set right by Bobby's informing her how it came into his possession.
"Here is my ledger, mother," he said, handing her the book.
Mrs.Bright put on her spectacles, and after bestowing a careful scrutiny upon the memorandum book, turned to the accounts.
"Fifty books!" she exclaimed, as she read the first entry.
"Yes, mother; and I sold them all." "Fifty dollars!" "But I had to pay for the books out of that." "To be sure you had; but I suppose you made as much as ten cents apiece on them, and that would be--let me see; ten times fifty----" "But I made more than that, I hope." "How much ?" The proud young merchant referred her to the profit and loss account, which exhibited a balance of fifteen dollars.
"Gracious! Three dollars a day!" "Just so, mother.

Now I will pay you the dollar I borrowed of you when I went away." "You didn't borrow it of me." "But I shall pay it." Mrs.Bright was astonished at this unexpected and gratifying result.

If she had discovered a gold mine in the cellar of the little black house, it could not have afforded her so much satisfaction; for this money was the reward of her son's talent and energy.

Her own earnings scarcely ever amounted to more than three or four dollars a week, and Bobby, a boy of thirteen, had come home with fifteen for five days' work.