That day he found two sacks，which he took to the rambling wooden factory and 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 the ancient barn that housed the family’s goats and chickens.Reuben found a rusty soda tin and dropped his coins inside.Then he climbed into the loft of the barn and hid the tin beneath a pile of sweet smelling hay.
It was dinnertime when Reuben got home.His father sat at the big kitchen table，working on a fishing net.Dora was at the kitchen stove，ready to serve dinner as Reuben took his place at the table.
He looked at his mother and smiled.Sunlight from the window gilded her shoulder-length blonde hair.Slim and beautiful，she was the center of the home，the glue that held it together.
Her chores were never-ending.Sewing clothes for her family on the old singer treadle machine，cooking meals and baking bread，planting and tending a vegetable garden，milking the goats and scrubbing soiled clothes on a washboard.But she was happy.Her family and their well-being were her highest priority.
Every day after chores and school，Reuben scoured the town，collecting the hessian nail bags.On the day the two-room school closed for the summer，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 thegarden，cutting wood and fetching water—Reuben kept to his secret task.
Then all too soon the garden was harvested，the vegetables canned and stored，and the school reopened.Soon the leaves fell and the winds blew cold and gusty from the bay.Reuben wandered the streets，diligently searching for his hessian 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.”