Then his face cleared, and he
laughed. "So you haven't any money, and you won't let me keep you," he
continued. "Well, those are pretty honorable objections. I expect to do
away with them though, immediately." He drew himself up, and said,
impressively: "'That is gold which is worth gold.' You've got the gold all
right, Elnathan, or the money, whichever you choose to call it."
Elnathan stared.
"Why, boy, look here!" Mr. Lightenhome exclaimed, as he seized the hard
young arm, where much enforced toil had developed good muscle. "There's
your gold, in that right arm of yours. What you want to do is to get it out
of your arm and into your pocket. I don't need to keep you. You can live
with me and keep yourself. What do you say now?"
The boy's face was alight. "Let's go today," he said.
"Not today--tomorrow," decided Mr. Lightenhome, gravely. "When I was young,
before misfortune met me and I was cheated out of all I had, I was used to
giving spreads. We'll give one tonight to those we used to be fellow
paupers with no longer ago than yesterday, and tomorrow we will go. We
began this year in the poorhouse; we will end it in our own home.
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