There's a hard winter coming, you know."
There was no mistaking Mr. Minturn's tone. It said, as plainly as words
could have done, "That's what I think you ought to do, anyhow."
Tip looked troubled. "There's nothing for me to do," he said at last; "I
don't know of a place in this town where I could get steady work that I
could do; and besides, if there was, I'm after an education now."
"My brother is here from Albany," Mr. Minturn made answer to this. "He is
a merchant, has a large store there, and keeps a great many clerks. He's
been plagued to death lately with one of his boys,--when he sent him home
with bundles, he'd open them and help himself; and my brother told me
last night, if I could warrant him a boy who was perfectly honest, he'd
take him home with him, pay his fare down, and do well by him. I thought
of you right away, and I told my brother that you were just the boy for
him,--you'd be as true as steel; but then, if you're going to keep on at
school, it's all up."
Mr. Minium did not add, that he had kept his brother until eleven o'clock
the night before, telling him Tip's history,--what a boy he had been, how
he had changed, how he was struggling upward; and, finally, the whole
story of the examination,--the failure, the downfall, the public
confession; nor how his brother had listened eagerly, and had said, with
energy, after the story was finished,--
"Such a boy as that ought to be helped; and I'm ready to help him.
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