"I hope he will pay you for your trouble when he takes away
the tin box."

"He has already. I forgot to mention it," and Luke drew from his
vest pocket, the bank-note he had thrust in as soon as received.
"Why, it's a ten-dollar bill!" he exclaimed. "I wonder whether he
knew he was giving me as much?"

"I presume so, Luke," said his mother, brightening up. "You are
in luck!"

"Take it, mother. You will find a use for it."

"But, Luke, this money is yours."

"No, it is yours, for you are going to take care of the box."

It was, indeed, quite a windfall, and both mother and son retired
to rest in a cheerful frame of mind, in spite of Luke's failure in
the race.

"I have been thinking, Luke," said his mother, at the breakfast-table,
"that I should like to have you buy a Waterbury watch out of this
money. It will only cost three dollars and a half, and that is only
one-third."

"Thank you, mother, but I can get along without the watch. I
cared for it chiefly because it was to be a prize given to the
best skater. All the boys know that I would have won but for
the accident, and that satisfies me."