THE story, as Miss White told it, was not unusual in that part of the city, but to John Dean there was every element of newness in it.

He listened without interruption as the story unfolded itself.

Mrs. Marsh, Ted’s mother, had had a hard time of it. Bill Marsh had married her eighteen years ago. Bill was a good mechanic, but after about six years of happiness things began to go wrong. He lost his position and at that time work was not easy to get. Day after day he had searched for something to do. Discouraged, he had taken to drink. Then there was a day when Bill did not return. In all these years Mrs. Marsh had never heard of him. She felt he was dead, yet even that she did not know.

It was a hard struggle afterward. Sewing and washing, early and late, and many a day she went hungry, so that the two children could eat. The mother often spoke of how Ted, when eight years old, had gone out one afternoon and had not returned until seven o’clock. Without a word he had put fifteen cents on the table and then had turned to eat. He showed by the way he ate how hungry he was. After the meal was over, he explained how he had made up his mind to support the family, and so he had bought some papers; the fifteen cents was profit. His capital, also some extra pennies, was intact, so that he could buy more papers.

“I’m going to support this family,” Ted had said, “I’m the man and it’s up to me.”

That was the beginning of Ted as a newsboy. He was very proud of his newsboy badge, and gradually, as he grew older, his help was quite a big share of the family expense, it counted against the family burden.

When Ted was almost eleven, he had joined the Settlement. Miss Wells, who grew to know the boy, his fine qualities, his independence and manliness had had a wonderful influence upon him. But there was also in Ted that mischievous streak, that spirit of fun, and even of trouble-making that every healthy, normal boy has.

It was through one of these mischievous pranks that Miss Wells had first met Ted. One day the boys had shut themselves in a room, six or seven of them, and bolted the door. When Mr. Jones, who was the Settlement Boys’ Worker, had asked them to come out, none of them wanted to show the white feather, and so they had not answered him, but had continued to stay in there. Mr. Jones locked the door with a key and left them, expecting that very soon they would call out, send an S. O. S., and beg to be let out. But there was no call, and after a half hour or so he had gone back to the door. It was very quiet within, unusually so. He managed to open the door after quite a lot of work. The room was empty.

There was only one other way out, through the window. It was a sheer drop of twenty or more feet, so to escape from there seemed out of the question. The last boy dropping out of the window could not, of course, stop to close it, and the fact remained that the window was closed.

Could they have come out through the door? He was sure they had not done so, as he had been very near the room all of the time. Then, too, it was hardly likely that any of the boys would have had a key to fit the rather unusual lock.

Cautious was Mr. Jones. These observations had to be made without creating any suspicion in any of the other watching, grinning boys all about. He did not wish them to know that things were not as they should be and that he was at sea as to how they had made their escape. Pretty soon the boys who had been in that room, one after another, came into the building. They were all so innocent looking, butter would not have melted in the mouths of any of them. They never did tell him, but they did tell Miss Wells and the rest of the workers, how Ted would not let them open the door and had refused to let them call Mr. Jones when the door had been locked a half hour. How he had called for help to some older boys who had been passing in the street below. They were not members of the Settlement and were ready for any mischief. They had obtained a ladder that Ted told them was lying on the ground near a close-by fence. He had been the last to leave on that ladder, which almost touched the window-sill, and he had carefully closed the window after him. He warned them not to tell Mr. Jones, but it was too good a joke not to tell others.

It was after this that Miss Wells had spoken to Ted and had realized how much fineness there was in the boy, in spite of his mischievous, fun-loving disposition. There were other times Ted had been caught in mischief, but there never had been any suspicion of meanness in any of the escapades. He was honest, you felt that, and he looked at you fearlessly, truthfully. He learned to love Miss Wells; she could do things with him, when others could not. She could make him see what was right and what was wrong, what was fair and what was not fair. She made him see ahead, too; to have ambitions and a desire to be something worth while. He had a good head and he often used it, too.

A great opportunity came to Ted and to the other boys. A scout master came to the Settlement and Ted, now over 12, became a Scout. He did many extra little things so that he could earn the necessary money for the suit and the other expenses, such as initiation and dues. The sale of the Posts helped him and he eagerly watched the announcements of the many awards of the Saturday Evening Post. While not often successful in prize-winning, the help he received from his sales was invaluable. He soon passed his tenderfoot test and earnestly and successfully tried to understand woodcraft and all the other things a Scout should know. He was loyal to his oath. It had to be a very good deed each day for him to be satisfied. Being a good Scout was a great ambition, so he found.

Much trouble he had had with the boys of the neighborhood. Once he had seen three or four of them laughing at and poking a tiny mongrel to whose tail they had tied a tin can almost as big as the pup itself. There was a good deed to do, and so he sprang at the laughing, jeering urchins, who gave way for but a moment and then proceeded to pound him. It was a hard fight and they were succeeding fairly well when two of the Settlement boys came along and the other youngsters scampered.

The poor pup, after Ted had untied the string, licked his shoes, whining eagerly, and so, with a sudden impulse, the boy had picked up the pup and brought him home. Mrs. Marsh had not been specially pleased, but she let Ted have his way. The dog stayed.

Between school and the Settlement Ted was receiving an education equal to that of any one. Only the summer before Miss Wells had spoken to Mrs. Marsh and then both of them had insisted that Ted was to go to the Settlement Camp for two weeks.

“I can’t go,” answered Ted. There was regret in his voice. To go seemed the most wonderful thing in the world. “Who’s going to tend to my papers and my Posts? I’m not going to lose my customers; can’t afford to build up a new business.” The voice sounded final.

“You can get some of the other boys to do it for the two weeks,” Miss Wells replied. “I’m sure Tom and Arthur would do it for you and then, when they go, you can help them.”

That plan suited Tom and Arthur just as much as it did Ted. So he went to camp for two weeks. I do not have to tell any of the boys who read this of the fun he had. Tramping, going to the village, swimming, rowing.

The bugle awakened them at six-thirty. Down to the lake for a swim and setting-up exercises. Or, if you happened to be on the Cook, Waiters’ or Mess Tent Committee, you had to arise at five-thirty to prepare breakfast. At seven you were so hungry you could eat shoeleather. At seven-fifteen, you went to it.

Then your work, whatever committee you were on, Grounds, Tent, Water, such as it was, had to be done. At ten-thirty, inspection, then a tramp or another swim, perhaps rowing or reading, if you were lazy. Dinner, for which you were quite ready, or, perhaps, this was the day for a long “hike” and you were off somewhere, with lunch.

There usually was a baseball game in the afternoon. Some of the boys, Ted too, caddied for a neighboring golf club several afternoons of the week. The money thus earned paid for Ted’s stay at camp.

At night there was a campfire and songs. Ted had a wonderful time, but the two weeks were up very, very soon. Without a useless regret, he went back to his papers and his daily job.

Mrs. Marsh’s lot became a little easier. Thanks to her daughter Helen’s wages and Ted’s earnings, things had been bettered.

Miss White went on to explain about Helen. She was sixteen years old, for more than a year she had been one of the many salesgirls in one of the big department stores of Chicago. She was a bright girl, always willing, and so attentive that the miserable wage with which she had started had been doubled in the one year. It was still pitifully small notwithstanding.

“Mrs. Marsh has often said, ‘I am rich in my children, if in nothing else’,” she quoted.

“She certainly is,” John Dean answered heartily.

There were more things Miss White told John Dean. As he listened he made up his mind to do what he could, for here was a youngster who had the makings of a fine man. Dean felt that this was a great opportunity for him.

When Ted came in soon after he found his two friends going through the Settlement and Miss White explaining to an interested and earnest listener the things the Settlement was doing, just how it was making good future citizens.

As Mr. Dean turned to leave, he asked Miss White for pen and ink and left a check for a large amount with her.

“Just a little to help in the work,” he remarked. And because he was a modest and a very bashful man, he blushed. Ted and he hurried out.