It was the last day of August that Pat went walking down to do his marketing with a jubilant air. Next week school was to begin, and with the beginning of the term he had expected to go back to his old wages of a dollar a week. But that morning Mrs. Brady had told him that he was still to have two dollars.

"And me goin' to school?" asked the boy in surprise.

"Yes, Pat. You have come to be very skillful about the house and you are worth it."

"I wasn't thinkin' about gettin' skillful, ma'am, so as to have my wages raised," was the earnest answer. "I was just thinkin' how to please you and doin' my best."

Mrs. Brady was touched. "You have pleased me, Pat, and you have pleased Mr. Brady, too. We both take a great interest in you."

"Do you, ma'am? Then that's better than havin' my wages raised, though it's glad of the raise I am, too, and thank you for it. 'Twill be great news to be takin' home the next time I go."

But Pat was to take home greater news than that, though he did not know it as he went along with all the light-heartedness of his race. The sight of the tall, slender boy with his basket on his arm had grown familiar in the streets of Wennott. He was never left waiting in the stores now, and nothing but the best was ever offered him. Not only did the grocers know him, but the butchers, the poulterers, and even the dry goods merchants. For he often matched silks and wools for Mrs. Brady, and he had been known to buy towels of the common sort. A group of loafers shrugged their shoulders as he passed them this morning, and fell to repeating anecdotes of his shrewdness when certain dealers had tried to sell him poor goods at market prices.

"There's nobody in this town ever got ahead of him yet on a deal," said one. "He's so awful honest."

"Bein' square himself, he won't take nothin' but squareness from nobody, and while he's lookin' out for his own chances he looks out for the other fellow's, too. Times and times he's handed back nickels and dimes when change wasn't made straight," contributed a second.

"There's two or three store men in town got their eye on him. They don't like to say nothin', seem' he's cookin' at General Brady's, but if he ever leaves there, he'll have pick and choice. Yes, sir, pick and choice," concluded a third.

At that very moment a dry goods merchant of the west side of the square was in the bank talking to General Brady. "I might as well speak," Mr. Farnham had thought. "If I don't get him, somebody else will." What the loafers had said was true.

"General," began Mr. Farnham, after the two had exchanged greetings, "I dislike to interfere with your family arrangements, but I should like to have Pat in the store this fall. I'll give him fifteen dollars a month."

The General smiled. "Fifteen dollars is cheap for Pat, Mr. Farnham. He's no ordinary boy."

"But that's the regular price paid here for beginners," responded Mr. Farnham. "And he'll have a great deal to learn."

"Have you spoken to him yet?"

"No, I thought I would speak to you first."

"Well, Mr. Farnham, Mrs. Brady and I some time ago decided that, much as we should like to keep Pat with us, we would not stand in his way when his chance came, I think this is his chance. And I don't doubt he'll come to you."

After a little further talk between the two General Brady said: "There is another matter I wish to mention. Mrs. O'Callaghan has set her heart on having Pat graduate from the public school. He could do so easily in another year, but with his strong mercantile bent, and taking into consideration the struggle his mother is obliged to make to keep him there, I don't think it best. For, while Pat supports himself, he can do nothing to help at home. I ask you to give him one evening out a week, Mr. Farnham, and I will direct his reading on that evening. If I can bring him up and keep him abreast of the times, and prevent him from getting into mischief, he'll do."

"I shouldn't think he could accomplish much with one evening a week, General," objected Mr. Farnham, who did not wish to give Pat a regular evening out. An occasional evening was enough, he thought.

"Oh, yes, he can," insisted the General. "The most of his reading he will do at odd minutes, and that evening will be chiefly a resume and discussion of what he has gone over during the week."

"You must take a strong interest in the boy, General."

"I do. I don't mind telling you privately, Mr. Farnham, that I mean to push him. Not by charity, which, to the best of my belief, not an O'Callaghan would take, but by giving him every opportunity in my power to advance for himself."

"In other words, you mean to protect the boy's interests, General?"

"I do. As I said before, fifteen dollars a month is cheap for Pat. I suppose he is to have, in addition, his one evening a week?"

"Yes," agreed Mr. Farnham, reluctantly.

"Thank you," said the General, courteously.

General Brady had intended to keep his news from Pat until the next morning, but it would not keep. As the boy, with his spotless apron on, brought in the dinner and stood ready to wait at table, the old soldier found the words crowding to the tip end of his tongue. His keen eyes shone, and he regarded with a most kindly gaze the lad who, to make life a little easier for his mother, had faced jeers and contempt and had turned himself into a girl—a kitchen girl. It was not with his usual smoothness, but quite abruptly, that he began: "Pat, you are to leave us, it seems."

Pat so far forgot his manners as to stop and stare blankly at his employer.

"Yes, Pat. You are going into Mr. Farnham's store this fall at fifteen dollars a month."

If anything could have more endeared him to the General and his wife it was the way in which Pat received this, to him, important communication. He looked from one to the other and back again, his face radiant with delight. The born trader was to have an opportunity to trade.

And then his expression sobered. "But what will Mrs. Brady be doin' without me?" he cried. "Sure she's used to me now, and she's not strong, either."

"Perhaps Mike would come," suggested Mrs. Brady.

"He'll be glad to do it, ma'am!" exclaimed Pat, his joy returning. "'Tis himself that thinks its first the General and then you, just as I do."

"I hope you may always think so," said Mrs. Brady, smiling.

"Sure and I will. How could I be thinkin' anything else?"

And then the meal went on.

That evening, by permission, Pat went home. He sang, he whistled, he almost danced down the track.

"And it's Pat as is the happy b'y this evenin'," said Mrs. O'Callaghan. "Listen to him singin' and whistlin', first wan and then the other. Gineral Brady's is the place for any one."

The family were sitting in the kitchen, for the evening was a trifle cool. But the windows were open and there was a lamp burning.

"He's got some good news, I guess," remarked quiet Andy.

The mother gave him a quick glance. "Andy," she said, "you're the b'y as is different from all the rest, and a comfort you are, too. 'Tisn't ivery family has a b'y as can hear good news when it's comin'."

And then Pat came in. His eyes were ablaze, and his wide mouth wore its most joyous smile. He looked round upon them all for one second, and then, in a ringing voice, he cried: "Mother! Oh, mother, it's to Mr. Farnham's store I'm to go, and I'm to have fifteen dollars a month, and the General is going to help me with my books, and Mrs. Brady wants Mike to go to her!"

It was all out in a breath, and it was such a tremendous piece of news that it left them all gasping but Larry, who understood not a thing but that Pat had come, and who stood waiting to be noticed by the big brother. For a full moment there was neither speech nor motion. Then the widow looked slowly round upon her sons. Her heart was full of gratitude to the Bradys, of pride in Pat, of exultation over his good fortune, and, at the same time, her eyes were brimming with tears.

"B'ys," she said at last, "I wasn't looking for permotions quite so soon again. But I belave that where they've come wanst, they're loikely to be comin' again, if them that's permoted lives up to their chances. Who's been permoted in Mr. Farnham's store, I can't say. But sure Pat, he steps up, and Moike steps into the good place Pat has stepped out of, and gives Andy his chance here at home. There's them that says there's no chances for anybody any more, but the world's full of chances. It's nothin' but chances, so 'tis. Sure a body don't want to be jerked from wan thing to another so quick their head spins, and so chances come along pretty middlin' slow. But the world's full of 'em. Let Andy wanst get larned here at home, and you'll be seein' what he'll do. Andy's not so strong as some, and he'll need help. I'm thinkin' I'll make a team out of him and Jim."

"I don't want to be helpin'. I want to be doin' mesilf," objected Jim.

"And what will you be doin'?" asked the widow. "You're full short for spreadin' bedclothes, for though nine years makes a b'y plinty big enough for some things, it laves him a bit small for others. You can't be cookin' yet, nor sweepin', nor even loightin' fires. But you shall be doin', since doin's what you want. You shall wipe the dishes, and set the table, and do the dustin', and get the kindlin', and sure you'll be tired enough when you've all that done to make you glad you're no older and no bigger. Your father, when he was noine, would have thought that a plinty for him, and so it's a plinty for you, as you'll foind. You're quite young to be permoted that high," went on his mother, seeing a discontented expression on the little fellow's face. "Only for the big b'ys gettin' ahead so fast, you wouldn't have no chance at all, and folks wouldn't think you much bigger than Barney there, so they wouldn't. B'ys of nine that gets any sort of permotion is doin' foine, let me tell you. And now's your chance to show Moike that you can kape the dishes shinin', and niver a speck of dust on anything as well as he could himsilf."

Jim straightened himself, and Mike smiled encouragingly upon him. "You can do it, Jim," he said with a nod.

And Jim decided then and there that he would do it.

"I'll be lookin' round when I come to visit you all from Mrs. Brady's, and I expect to be proud of Jim," added Mike.

And Jim increased his determination. He wanted to have Mike proud of him. Very likely Mike would not be proud of the little boys. There was nothing about them to be proud of. "He shall be proud of me," thought Jim, and an important look stole over his face. "He'll be tellin' me I'm the b'y, I shouldn't wonder."

And now the widow's mind went swiftly back to the General. "Sure, and it's a wonderful man he is," she cried. "Your father was jist such a man, barrin' he was Irish and no Gineral at all. 'Twas him that was at the bottom of your gettin' the place to Mr. Farnham's, a-trustin' you to do all the buyin' so's folks could see what was in you. It's sorry I am about the graduation, but the Gineral knows best, so he does."

Then her thought turned to the finances of the family. "And how much is sixteen and fifteen?" she asked. "Sure, and it's thirty-wan. Thirty-wan dollars a month for us this winter, and Moike takin' care of himself, to say nothin' of what Moike has earned with the lawn mower. 'Blessin's on the man that invented it,' says I, 'and put folks in the notion of havin' their lawns kept neat, 'cause they could do it cheap.' And there's what Andy and Jim has made a-drivin' the cows, and Barney and Tommie a-takin' care of the geese. Wennott's the town for them as can work. And bad luck to lazy bones anyway. It's thankful I am I've got none of 'em in my family."

She paused a moment in reflection.

"Them geese now is foine. Do you think, Pat, the Gineral and Mrs. Brady would enjoy eatin' wan of 'em when it's a bit cooler? You knows what they loikes by this time."

"I think they would, mother."

"Then it's the best of the lot they shall have. Bad luck to them that's always a-takin' and niver wantin' to be givin' back."