Franklin, cheerfully, but with
tears in her eyes.
"Do you think so, really?" he asked, eagerly. "I am so glad, because, do
you know, mother, I have been getting so gloomy of late, thinking how
useless I am."
"Amos!" she exclaimed, reproachfully.
"Now, mother, I'm not complaining; but I know I am useless. I can never
earn my living by any kind of work, and I'm not talented enough to be an
artist or designer; but I thought if I could only do something to help
somebody, and all of a sudden it flashed upon me that there were boys
and girls worse off than I am, and I might make them happy. And you
think it will?"
"Decidedly, I do. It is a noble thought, Amos, and I am proud of your
idea."
"Then I will write some more," he said, simply.
A week or two passed and Amos had a dozen little correspondents, who
each and all wanted to see him; but he gently evaded their requests, and
only wrote longer letters.
"They must think I am well and strong," he said.
Then one day there came a handsome carriage to the door, and a
gray-haired gentleman called on Amos.
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