In 1945, a 12-year-old boy saw something in a shop window that set his heart racing. But the price-five dollars-was far beyond Reuben Earle's means. Five dollars would buy almost a week's groceries for his family. Reuben couldn't ask his father for the money. Everything his father made through fishing went to her mother, Dora, who struggled to feed and clothe their five children. Nevertheless, he opened the shop's weathered door and went inside. Standing proud and straight in his flour-sack shirt and washed-out trousers, he told the shopkeeper what he wanted, adding ,"But I don't have the money right now. Can you please hold it for me for some time?" "I'll try,"the shopkeeper smiled."Folks around here don't usually have that kind of money to spend on things. It should keep for a while." Reuben respectfully touched his worn cap and walked out. He would raise the money and not tell anybody. On hearing the sound of hammering from a side street, Reuben suddenly had an idea. People built their own homes in Bay Roberts, using nails purchased in sacks from a local factory. Sometimes the used sacks were disposed of at the construction site, and Reuben knew he could sell them back to the factory for five cents a piece. That day he found two sacks, which he sold to the man in charge of packing nails. The boy's hand tightly clutched the five-cent pieces as he ran the two kilometers home. Near his house stood an ancient barn. Reuben found a rusty soda tin and dropped his coins inside. Then he climbed into it and hid the tin beneath a pile of hay. It was dinnertime when Reuben got home. His father was ready to serve dinner as Reuben took his place at the table. He looked at his mother and smiled. Slim and beautiful, she was the center of the home, the glue that held it together. Her chores were never-ending, but she was happy as her family and their well-being were her highest priority. Every day after chores and school, Reuben _ the town, collecting the nail sacks. Summer vacation came, and no student was more delighted than Reuben. Now he would have more time for his mission. All summer long, despite chores at home weeding and watering the garden, cutting wood and fetching water -- Reuben kept to his secret task. Then all too soon fall arrived, and the winds blew cold and gusty from the bay. Reuben wandered the streets, diligently searching for his treasures. Often he was cold, tired and hungry, but the thought of the object in the shop window sustained him. Sometimes his mother would ask:"Reuben, where were you? We were waiting for you to have dinner." "Playing, Mum. Sorry." Dora would look at his face and shake her head. Boys. Finally the time had come! He ran into the barn, climbed to the hayloft and uncovered the tin can. He poured the coins out and began to count. Then he counted again. He needed 20 cents more. Could there be any sacks left anywhere in town? He had to find out and sell them before the day ended. Reuben ran down Water Street. The shadows were lengthening when Reuben arrived at the factory. The sack buyer was about to lock up. "Mister! Please don't close up yet." The man turned and saw Reuben, dirty and sweat stained. "Come back tomorrow, boy." "Please, Mister. I have to sell the sacks now -- please."The man heard a tremor in Reuben's voice and could tell he was close to tears. "Why do you need this money so badly?" "It's a secret." The man took the sacks, reached into his pocket and put four coins in Reuben's hand. Reuben murmured a thank you and ran home. Then, clutching the tin can, he headed for the shop. "I have the money,"he solemnly told the owner. The man went to the window and retrieved Reuben's treasure. He wiped the dust off and gently wrapped it in brown paper. Then he placed the parcel in Reuben's hands. Racing home, Reuben burst through the front door. His mother was busy in the kitchen. "Here, Mum! Here!"Reuben exclaimed as he ran to her side. He placed a small box in her work-roughened hand. She unwrapped it carefully, to save the paper. A blue-velvet jewel box appeared. Dora lifted the lid, tears beginning to blur her vision. In gold lettering on a small, almond-shaped brooch was the word "Mother". It was Mother's Day, 1946. Dora had never received such a gift; she had no finery except her wedding ring. Speechless, she smiled radiantly and gathered her son into her arms. What would be the best title for the passage?
A Boy with a Mission A Valuable Gift A Special Mother's Day An Unforgettable Experience