Our Holidays: Their Meaning and Spirit; retold from St. NicholasVarious
History
Our Holidays: Their Meaning and Spirit; retold from St. Nicholas
Various
Festivals -- Juvenile literature; Holidays -- Juvenile literature
Jimmy felt very forlorn. The General had been his last hope. The eggs
were a dead loss.
At last it came time to close up, and he piled all of his wares in a
basket. Then he took out a little broom and began to sweep in an orderly
way around his little stall. He had a battered old dustpan, and as he
carried it out to the street to empty it, he saw a stiff greenish-gray
paper sticking out of the dirt. Nothing in the world ever looks exactly
like that but an American greenback, and, sure enough, when Jimmy pulled
it out it proved to be a ten-dollar bill.
Jimmy sat down on the curb suddenly. His money always came in pennies
and nickels and dimes and quarters. The Little Mother sometimes earned a
dollar at a time, but never in his whole life had Jimmy possessed a
ten-dollar bill.
Think of the possibilities to a little, poor, cold, worried boy. There
was two months' rent in that ten-dollar bill--two months in which he
would not have to worry over whether there would be a roof over their
heads.
Then there was a basket stall in that ten-dollar bill. That had always
been his ambition. Some one had told him that baskets sold well in other
cities, and not a single person had opened a basket stall in Old Market,
and that was Jimmy's chance. Once established, he knew he could earn a
good living.
As for ten dollars' worth of groceries and provisions, Jimmy's mind
could not grasp such a thing; fifty cents had always been the top limit
for a grocery bill.
But--it wasn't Jimmy's ten dollars. Like a flash his dreams tumbled to
the ground. There had been many people coming and going through Old
Market, but Jimmy knew that the bill was the General's. For the old
gentleman had pulled out a roll when he reached for the five cents. Yes,
it was the General's; but how to find the General?
Inside the market he found the General's butcher. Yes, the butcher knew
the General's address, for he was one of his best customers, and would
keep Jimmy's basket while the boy went to the house.
It was a long distance. Jimmy passed rows of great stone mansions, and
went through parks, where crocuses and hyacinths were just peeping out.
At last he came to the General's.
A colored man answered the ring of the bell.
"Who shall I say?" he inquired loftily. "The General is very busy,
y'know."
"Say Jimmy, from the market, please"; and Jimmy sat down on the great
hall seat, feeling very much awed with all the magnificence.
"Well, well," said the General, as he came puffing down the stairs.
"Well, well, and what do you want?"
"Please, sir, did you drop this?" and Jimmy held out the tightly rolled
bill.
"Did I? Well, now, I'm sure I don't know. Perhaps I did, perhaps I did."
"I found it in front of my stall," said Jimmy.
What a strange thing it seemed that the General should not know! Jimmy
would have known if he had lost a penny. He began to feel that the
General could not have a true idea of _business_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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