watchful eye on little ones. Bob did not see the solicitude at this moment, but he saw something that held him. He knew the job mattered enormously to Jimmy.
“Do you really want to work, son?” he asked. “It will be hard work.”
“Yes, please, sir.”
“What have you done?”
Jimmy drooped pitifully. “I—I haven’t done anything, sir. I’ve just left school.”
“What standard have you passed?”
“The sixth, sir. I’m fourteen.” There was nothing boastful about the latter statement, but it was given hopefully.
“What’s your name?”
“Jimmy Paul, sir.”
“All right. Come to the office at nine to-morrow morning, Jimmy.”
The boy stared at him swallowing hard. “Will—will you take me, sir?” He could not realize it was done.
“Yes, Jimmy, I’ll try you. You can be a fine help to me if you really want to work, and I’ll pay you what you are worth. I’ll see you at nine to-morrow.”
But Jimmy still stood fumbling with his cap, unable to move. And Bob understood.
“I say, Jimmy, do you know any boys who would help to deliver the paper at night?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fine. You pick out three of the best and bring them with you in the morning. They must be reliable, you understand, and be willing to stay on the job. They must be ready to come along after school if they’re still at it. They’ll get a commission on the papers they sell and a wage for delivering. And it will take an hour or more
