"It does
young men good to work. Pity more of 'em don't do it. Hard work
and plain food is what the rising generation wants. I don't approve
of airships--that is as a rule," the crabbed old miser hastily
added, "but, of course, twenty thousand dollars is a nice prize to
win. I only hope you get it. Nephew Richard. I like to see you
work. I'm going back now. I'll tell your Aunt Samantha that you've
at last learned how to do something, even if it is only building an
airship."
"Don't you call my studies at Kentfield something, Uncle Ezra?"
asked Dick.
"No sir! No, sir-ee!" cried the elderly man. "That's time and
money thrown away. But I see that you can do manual labor, Nephew
Richard, and if you really want to do useful work, and earn money,
I'd be glad to have you in my woolen mill. I could start you on
three dollars and a half a week, and you could soon earn more. Will
you come?"
"No, thank you," said Dick. "Thank you just the same."
He had a vivid idea of what it might mean to work for his Uncle
Ezra. Besides, Dick's fortune was such that he did not have to
work. But he fully intended to, and he was getting a training that
would enable him to work to the best advantage. Just because he was
a millionaire he did not despise work. In fact he liked it, and he
had made up his mind that he would not be an idler.
Just now aviation attracted him, and he put in as many hours working
over his airship--hard work, too,--as many a mechanic might have
done.
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