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in cash before we seal the bargain,” I said.

        “Ten cents it is,” Tom said. “But before we shake hands on the deal, I just want you to know that it is going to break Papa’s and Mamma’s hearts when I tell them they have a son who is a blackmailer. And because I don’t want to associate with blackmailers, I’m giving you the silent treatment from now on.”

        I sure didn’t want Papa and Mamma to think they had raised a blackmailer, and I knew from past experience that I’d rather be dead than have Tom give me the silent treatment.

        “Forget the whole deal,” I said. “My word of honor I won’t tell.”

        “Then you admit it was a shameful thing to try and blackmail your own brother?” Tom asked.

    “Yes,” I said.

    “So shameful you should be punished for it?” Tom asked.

    “I guess so,” I said.

        “Because you’re my brother, and I love you, I’m going to let you off easy,” Tom said. “Give me your word of honor to me that you’ll never tell the fellows Dotty kissed me, and do all my chores for a week, and we’ll call it even.” “Word of honor,” I said, crossing my heart.

        That evening after supper while Mamma and Aunt Bertha were doing the dishes, Tom and I were sitting on the floor in the parlor. Papa was smoking his pipe.

        “You have done a wonderful thing for Dotty Blake,” Papa said to Tom.

        “Thanks, Papa,” Tom said. Then he winked at me as he kept his face turned away from Papa. “You know, J.D., it is just too bad I won’t be tutoring Dotty anymore. Without my help Mr. Standish might not let her skip the second grade next year.”

        “What’s this?” Papa asked as he removed his pipe from his mouth. “Of course, you will continue to help the girl.”

        Tom turned around and faced Papa. “Why should I?” he asked. “I kept my part of the bargain with you and Mamma, and I have my bike back.”

        “You will continue to help Dotty, and that is final,” Papa said.

        Tom shrugged. “All right, Papa, but you’ll have to fix it up with Mamma when the trouble starts. You and Mamma can expect me to get into a fight with some kid almost every day. And I don’t want to be punished for something that is your fault.”

        “And just why should you be getting into a fight every day?” Papa asked.

        Tom stood up and folded his arms on his chest. “When you were my age, you didn’t have anything to do with girls, did you?”

    “Well, no,” Papa answered.

       

    “And when you were my age, any other boy who had anything to do with girls was called a sissy, wasn’t he?” Tom asked.

    “You could say that,” Papa agreed.

        “And if any boy had called you a sissy, you would have fought him. Right, Papa?”

        Papa squirmed in his chair. “I suppose I would have,” he said.

        “Well, what do you think is going to happen to me if I go on seeing Dotty and helping her?” Tom asked. “Every kid in town is going to start making fun of me and calling me a sissy. That means I’ll be getting into a fight almost every day. And I might even have to beat up a few kids smaller than me, just to make them stop calling me a sissy.”

        “But you were helping Dotty before and didn’t get into any fights over it,” Papa said.

        “Only because I explained to the other kids it was the only way I could get back my bike,” Tom said. “Now I’ve got my bike back. There is no excuse for me helping Dotty.”

        Papa rubbed the stem of his pipe on his teeth. “There must be some way,” he said. “Your mother and I want to help that girl all we can.”

        “There is a way, all right,” Tom said. “If the kids thought I was getting paid for tutoring Dotty, they would understand—because they all know I only use my great brain to make money or to get something. But if I tell them I’m getting paid when I’m not getting paid,