“_Dis_agreeable, you mean,” corrected Jack, picking up sticks over in the corner. “There, Corny, you let that old fellow alone; I’ll tackle him soon. He’s too tough for you.” Corny, resenting the implication, let the hatchet fly on the back of the old log to show how strong he was in such a masterful style that the chips flew in every direction, and Rosalie paused to shake them from her apron, before she said, “No; I’m quite sure it is unagreeable—I saw it in the dictionary.” “Well, then, you didn’t see right,” said Jack. “It’s d-i-s; awful big letters too. Means hateful, and not nice.” “Well, it’s not nice to be poor,” said Rosalie wisely waiving all further discussion as to the word; “that you must say anyway, Jack.” But Jack’s lips were tight. Presently he straightened himself up, and gave his head a shake. “Well, what shall we do about it?” “Do?” said Rosalie, in surprise, “why, I don’t know what you mean, Jack?” “When things are not nice, there is no use in talking about them if you don’t do something to make them better,” said Jack philosophically. “Now I want to know what we are going to do to make ourselves rich.” “_To make ourselves rich—O Jack!_” cried Rosalie and Cornelius together. “If we can earn some money, I suppose we shall be rich sometime,” observed Jack; “everybody was poor once, but they worked and got money. Now, how can we?” The children were so possessed with the idea of their ever being rich, that no words came to their aid; and Jack went on without interruption. “I’ve been thinking over something that, if we can do it, will be perfectly splendid, and help mammy take care of baby. Poor, dear mammy!” He turned away for a moment, and then showed his face again, the same old Jack with the laughing eyes, and pleasant, honest mouth. “Tell on,” said Cornelius, who had dropped his hatchet, and drawn near. “Be quick and tell us,” he added breathlessly. “Well, there is the tool-house,” said Jack. “Funny old hole, but just the thing for us. Now what’s to hinder our setting up a shop in it, and selling things?” “Real true-as-you-live things,” cried Rosalie, “with counters, string, and brown paper bags?” “And five cent pieces, and cents and quarters?” screamed Cornelius on his highest key. “Whickets! why didn’t we think of it before? But where’d we get the things to sell with? Phoh! your news isn’t anything, after all; only just an old dried-up joke.” He was so disgusted, that he went back, picked up his hatchet, and fell to slowly hacking again. Jack flung himself up to Rosalie’s side on the bench. “Now see here, both of you. The thing can be done, if we will all club together, and work hard. It’s not to be a success in a day, mind you, but we’ve got to pull hard, and at it all the time. Are you willing to do it for mammy’s sake?” “Can’t we have any time for play?” asked Rosalie with a long face. “Perhaps; but there won’t be much,” said Jack, “if we make a good thing of this.”