"These are the shoes I vowed to buy with my own earnings, or go without. Father bought them. I've learned to crow before my tail feathers have grown enough to tell whether I'm going to be a Brahma rooster or a Bantam hen. Well, I'm through cackling now: anyway, till I get rid of those girls, and save some money. Then I'll have something to cackle over." He swung down to breakfast, taking time to eat only his "bale of hay"--the shredded wheat biscuit the faithful Maggie put before him,--and hurried off to work. At the gate he encountered John Thomas Hennesy, going his way, with a broken bridle in his hand. "Mornin'," said John Thomas cheerfully. "Good-morning," returned Theodore. "Going my way? Then you'll have to keep up with my stride. I'm late this morning." "Workin' at Brown's steady now, ain't yer?" inquired John Thomas, with friendly curiosity. "Much in it?" "Four dollars a week as a starter," said Theodore, firmly pressing the skeleton back into its closet. "It's easy work, and they are beginning to give me a little collecting and bookkeeping of late." John Thomas gave his companion a covert stare that took in the neat blue serge suit and immaculate tie, the jaunty straw hat and well-polished shoes. He noted that Theodore's eyes were grey like Miss Billy's, and his teeth were white. Then he shoved his own stubby hands into his pockets, and lapsed into silence. Grudgingly to himself he admitted that Theodore was a "swell." He had soft hands, and clean finger nails, and white teeth. He polished his shoes every day, wore stand-up collars through the hot weather, and liked easy jobs. John Thomas's chin squared itself into the bulldog pattern of his father's, and his hands shut tight in his pockets. There was Miss Billy now. She and Theodore were as alike in looks as two peas. But Miss Billy was no swell. Her teeth and nails were awful clean, too,--but then, she was a girl,--and _she_ liked work. She'd do anything,--even if she had clean hands, and finger nails, and---- John Thomas was measuring the length of his stubby legs with Theodore's long swinging stride. "Driving team for your father, this vacation, aren't you?" inquired Theodore, in turn. "Pretty hot in the sun, isn't it?" "It's hot,--yes," admitted John Thomas, the bulldog chin slowly melting under the friendly glance of the grey eyes,--"but its good pay,--a dollar a day, and the day's work over at six o'clock." Theodore repressed a whistle. "Why, you'll save money, John Thomas, if the job lasts all summer." "It'll last all summer, all right, and longer too. Father's got more work than he can attend to. He's bought another team and he's going to hire another man to drive it. I worked for father all last summer, and I've got sixty dollars saved in the bank now. I'll make it a hundred before school commences in September."