"I'm going to get rich," Tom told his mother. "All the money I have in the world is the quarter Uncle Fred gave me. A quarter isn't enough to buy the green bike in Thompson's department store window. So I'm going to get rich."

"How are you going to do that?" his mother asked. "There aren't many ways a boy your age can earn money."

"I'll find things to do," Tom assured her. "Mrs. Davis's yard is a mess. I'm sure she'll pay me to clean it up. Don't worry. There are lots of ways to earn money." He smiled. "I'll make at least five dollars, just today! In a few weeks I'll be rich enough to buy the bike."

Tom whistled as he pulled his wagon down the sidewalk. He was still whistling when he rang Mrs. Davis's doorbell.

"I am going to earn money for a bike," he told Mrs. Davis. "Will you hire me to clean your yard?"

Mrs. Davis looked surprised. Then she looked sort of embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Tom," she said. "I certainly would like to have this dirty yard tidied up, and I can't do it myself. But my pension isn't enough for me to pay to have it done."

Tom looked at the branches and paper scraps cluttering the yard. Then he looked at Mrs. Davis. Even though she was old and could barely stoop to pick up things, she kept the inside of her house clean. Tom was sure she hated having a messy yard.

"God gave my dad a good job, and everyone in my family is young and able to do our own chores," he thought, feeling suddenly guilty.

"Look," he said out loud. "Your yard is small, and it's early. I can easily clean it before I start getting rich."

"Why, thank you, Tom!" said Mrs. Davis. "Come in when you're finished. "I'm baking bread today."

Tom smiled. Mrs. Davis's homemade bread was worth waiting an hour to start getting rich!

The sun was inching higher into the sky when Tom carried the last branch to the trash pile. If he hadn't been so hungry, he would have skipped eating homemade bread with peanut butter and gone right on to getting rich.

He'd barely left Mrs. Davis's house with the extra loaf of bread she'd insisted he take home, when he heard someone call, "Young man! Can you help me?"

Looking around, Tom saw Mr. Gunther waving at him.

"I need help carrying some boxes to the basement," the old man said. "I have to store some of my junk down there, or there won't be room upstairs for me."

He cackled at his own joke, and Tom tried to smile. Mr. Gunther lived on a pension too.

I won't get rich here either, Tom decided.

"Come on," the old man urged. He walked toward his house, not even waiting for Tom to agree to help.

Tom sighed, then followed Mr. Gunther inside. His mom wouldn't be happy with him if he refused to help a neighbor. God probably wouldn't be happy either. Besides, Mr. Gunther was pretty nice. Once he'd showed Tom how to make neat little boats from plain old tree leaves.

An hour later, Tom looked at the clock in Mr. Gunther's kitchen. It was ten-thirty, and he still had only a quarter!

"Wait," Mr. Gunther said as Tom started for the door. He looked embarrassed, like Mrs. Davis had, and Tom knew he was going to apologize for not having money.

"I don't want anything for helping," Tom said quickly, feeling embarrassed too.

Mr. Gunther looked relieved. "Checks just don't reach far enough nowadays," he mumbled. Then he took a small box from the table. "I found these when I was cleaning. Do you still have a stamp collection?" He opened the box, and Tom stared at a stack of old envelopes. The one on top had a big stamp with an airplane from World War II on it.

"Wow!" Tom said. "I don't have any stamps this old!"

Mr. Gunther looked pleased. "Here, then," he said. "And if you're trying to make money, Mrs. Jackson's car is being repaired. She's sure to need some errands done."

"Thanks a lot!" Toms said as he left. Helping Mrs. Jackson was a good idea. Once she'd given him a whole dollar just for getting a loaf of bread from the store.

Mrs. Jackson was pleased to see Tom and sent him to the store. But after he'd paid for the bread and soap, there was only a dime and four pennies change.

"I'm so sorry, Tom," she said after she dug through three old purses to see if she could find more money. "I guess fourteen cents is all I can pay today. I haven't been to the bank lately to get any cash."

Tom gulped. Then he remembered the dollar she'd paid him last time, and knew he'd already been paid for today too.

"That's okay," he said. "Fourteen cents is plenty. Thank you, Mrs. Jackson."

"Thank you!" she said. "You're a nice boy, Tom. It's good to have helping neighbors."

Her words made Tom feel so good that he was almost home before he realized that the morning was gone and he was only fourteen cents closer to being rich enough to buy the green bike.

Still, he thought as he parked his wagon, Mrs. Davis's loaf of bread would taste good at lunch. And he was eager to get Mr. Gunther's old stamps soaked off the envelopes and into his album. As for Mrs. Jackson--well, she had given him some money, and she was a good friend.

"Hurry, Tom. Lunch is ready," his mother called. When he went into the kitchen, she asked, "Well, are you rich yet?"

Tom grinned as he laid the loaf of bread on the table and carefully set the box of stamps on the counter. "Yep," he said. "I sure am."

The End

Margaret Shauers has been active in many writing areas over the past 30+ years, but writing for children remains her best love. Over the past several years, she has worked in the activity book and game book area. She also freelances children's short fiction and puzzles and some adult material. Her online column about writing for children is at http://write4kids.com/wmarket/index.html. She also teaches three classes about writing for children at http://home.universalclass.com

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