A GENEROUS IDEA.

Rhoda had finished her work, and sat down by Luke at the window. She gave him a little shake, for he seemed buried in recollections of the music that had charmed even her, and she wanted his entire attention.

"Luke, I have an idea."

The boy turned his large eyes upon her, and answered gently.

"You always have good ideas, Rhoda."

Rhoda nodded her head, thus quietly appropriating the honest praise awarded her.

"But this is a great idea, and may frighten you; that good Mrs. Holt is in trouble, Luke. She owes fifty dollars for board."

"Fifty dollars!" exclaimed the boy, dismayed by the sum; "that's a great deal of money."

"Yes, it seems a great deal to any one that isn't in trade as I am; but you know, Luke, some people consider it nothing at all."

"Do they? How very rich such people must be!"

"Not always; but this is my idea, Luke. Mrs. Holt spent lots of money on us, besides making a new man of father. Now I want to do something for her."

"You, Rhoda? What can you do?"

"I want to pay that fifty dollars to Mrs. Wheeler."

"Oh, Rhoda! Fifty dollars to Mrs. Wheeler!"

"Look here, brother; I've got a secret."

"A secret! You?"

"Yes, a magnificent secret! How long is it since I've been in trade, brother?"

"Why, ever since you were six years old. You began to go about when father——"

"Don't say anything about that just now. It makes me think of her mourning herself to death over again. Well, since we have been by ourselves, I have been looking out for a rainy day, Luke, laying up money like smoke."

"Laying up money? Why, every night you brought home the price of our matches for father."

"Of course I did—that belonged to him; but, Luke, don't be astonished, I've got money of my own; yes, I have lots of it, too. When I've been out selling matches—and I'm smart at it you may brag on that, if you want to."

"But I don't want to brag, sister."

"Of course, you don't. It's only me that's puffed up. Well, some folks like me, and perhaps some don't; but I finds lots of people that are good to me and give me things."

The boy started up, and pushed Rhoda away from him, almost angrily.

"Oh, Rhoda Weeks! you don't beg? You haven't forgot our mother so far as that?"

"Beg! Luke, you are a mean fellow to think so!"

"But you take?"

"Take! Well, yes; but it's all in the way of trade. Let me tell you. One day a lady asked me to take a dress and sell it for her to a second-hand clothing-store. I did it and got a good deal more money than she expected. She gave me a dollar for doing it, and said she had made a good bargain at that. This gave me an idea. I went into ever so many houses, and always made friends of the girls in the basement. They all like me, brother; and so do the ladies. Well, I got the girls to tell their mistresses that I should like to trade in cast-off garments—not old clothes, that disgust people—and would buy all they had if they would only trust me a day or two. The girls knew I was honest, and said so. The ladies trusted me, and let me have the things low because I was so little. The man had to run up his prices when I came, or I'd have gone somewhere else, and he knew it. So I began to make money, you understand—and that was no begging, but honest trade."

"But what have you done with the money? Why didn't you give it to father? I should."

"So should I, Luke; only mother left you and father to my care—and I had it in on my mind. 'What,' says I, 'if father should break down, as he has twice before, and nothing laid by; where would brother Luke be? The darling boy isn't strong, and can't knock about among folks as you can, Rhoda Weeks. It isn't in him. _She_ left that boy to you, just as rich men leave money and houses to their daughters—and he's a hundred thousand times more precious! Then father's good as gold when he's all right, and kind as kind can be when he isn't; only he does make money fly, and hasn't the least idea of saving. He'd never be content with this room if he knew about my business; but hand out like sixty,'—you know he would do that Luke!"

"Yes, I'm afraid he would," said Luke, thoughtfully.

"Well, this is the way I went on thinking. 'Brother Luke isn't strong; he hasn't a bit of talent for trade. He loves to read; he loves that violin as if it were a live thing. Mother wanted him to have an education, and he shall have it!'"

"Oh, sister Rhoda! how I love you," cried the boy, throwing his arms about the girl's neck in a burst of fond gratitude.

"Of course, you do. Weren't we born to love one another? Wasn't that _her_ last charge to us both? There, don't smother me, dear, I haven't come to the idea yet."

Luke unwound his arms from Rhoda's neck with a little sigh, and again composed himself to listen.

"You don't know anything about trade more than a baby, and perhaps have no idea that there is such an establishment as a Sixpenny Savings-Bank in New York?"

"No," answered Luke, humbly. "I haven't an idea about anything of the kind."

"And don't know what interest is?"

"No. What is it?"

"Did you ever see a snow-ball rolled up on the ground?"

"Yes, yes; the boys do it in some back yard every winter."

"Well, at first it is a little thing, and takes up so little snow as you roll it, that you can't tell exactly when and how it grows larger; but by-and-bye it rounds out bigger and bigger, till every turn swoops up whole drifts of snow. That is interest, Luke; the man at the bank told me all about it."

"I can't quite make it out," said Luke, with a puzzled look.

"Of course not. Well, the little snow-ball that a boy makes in the round of his hands is the first money; he gives it one roll in the snow, and that is a year's interest. The next roll takes a wider sweep, the next wider yet; that is interest on interest. But you can't understand—I couldn't at first; but it is a wonderful thing, Luke, where money makes itself."

"How cute you are, sister! But what is the idea?"

Rhoda appropriated this truth with a nod of her little head, and answered the question at once.

"This is it. I have got almost fifty dollars in that bank,—all yours, Luke. May I give this to the lady who was so good to our mother—who saved _him_?"

"May you do that? And you ask me? Oh, Rhoda! don't make me ashamed," answered the boy, folding his arms on the window-sill, and hiding his face in them. "I never earned a cent of it."

"That's a fib, if ever one was told. If it hadn't been for you, dear, I never should have branched out so. Now, say, shall we do this? That poor lady hasn't a cent, I know that, and Mrs. Wheeler will be worrying her to death. I saw it in the way she screwed up her mouth, and punched that great needle through her stair carpet, as if it had been a dagger."

"Do it. Oh, sister! I wish it was mine to give."

"So it is, every cent of it; but we will get more. You shall have learning, and nice clothes, and everything. Never fear, I'm in the business, only keep our secret."

"But is it right to keep anything from father?" questioned Luke, whose tender conscience was easily troubled.

Rhoda answered promptly, and in a way that settled the question at once.

"It is for his own good. I have settled that long ago. He is to have the match business. In the other you and I are partners. When he needs money, there's time enough to astonish him. See how contented he is! After flowers in the day, and music at night."

"But I am doing nothing."