"Thanks, Mr. Brown," said Dot, half shyly.
"Who asked you for your two cents' worth?" Terry demanded.
"I'm donating it, to your service. Go and do something yourself before
you make fun of others," Bill said.
"That's right, too, Billy. Terry can't drive a carpet tack, nor draw a
straight line with a ruler." Ted was always in a bantering mood and
eager for a laugh at anybody. "I'll bet Cora's radio will radiate
royally and right. You going to make one--you and Gus?"
"I guess we can't afford it," Bill replied quickly. "We're both going to
work in the mill next Monday. Long hours and steady, and not too much
pay, either. But we need the money; eh, Gus?"
"We do," agreed Gus, smiling.
Bill's countenance was altogether rueful. Life had not been very kind to
him and he very naturally longed for some opportunity to dodge continued
hardship. He wished that he might, like the boy Edison, make
opportunity, but that sounded more plausible in lectures than in real
life. He was moodily silent now, while the others engaged in a spirited
discussion started by Dot's saying kindly:
"Well, lots of boys and girls have to work and they often are the better
for it. Edison did--and was."
"Oh, I guess he could have been just as great, or greater if he hadn't
worked," remarked Terry sententiously. "It isn't only poor boys that
amount to----"
"Mostly," said Bill.
"Oh, of course, _you'd_ say that.
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