"Why, Daughter,
I suppose a way can be found, if he must have them. Who is this
Mickey Gaffney?"
Sister told about Mickey, and Brother helped her, and when they
had finished, Daddy Morrison knew all about Mickey and his school
troubles.
"Being red-headed and Irish, I don't suppose he will let me GIVE
him the money," he mused. "Let's see, what can a chap that age do?
He must be seven or eight years old--I've seen him hanging around
the station, ready to carry suitcases. I wonder if he couldn't
help the boys with the garden?"
"I'll pay him if he can weed," grinned Jimmie, who had been
listening. "And Ralph was saying last week that he wasn't going to
have time to take his turn at garden work--he wants to go in on an
earlier train."
"All right, we'll tell Ralph that Mickey is open for an
engagement," said Daddy Morrison. "We'll start him in the garden
and then perhaps other odd jobs will turn up."
"Dinner is ready, folks," called Mother Morrison, and they all
went into the dining-room.
"I want Mickey to earn a whole lot of money," declared Sister that
night as they were getting ready for bed. "Pulling weeds is such
slow work. He'll have to pull an awful lot to work an hour.
Pages:
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110