The two boys looked at each other for several moments when Mr. Snowden had left. It was a new experience for both of them. d.i.c.k, of course, could not tell much about himself, but he felt sure he had never lived in such a place as this, though he was far from despising the simple room. As for Jimmy, never had he expected to live in such comparative luxury. He actually had a place he could call "home."

"Were you in earnest when you said we would go in partnership?" asked d.i.c.k, after a pause.

"Sure. Why not? Any kid that kin sell papes de way youse kin, not yellin' about a fire or a murder, kin be a partner wid me as long as he likes. I'm willin' if youse is. We've got money now t' take us troo de week an' stack up wid papes every day. Sure, we'll be partners, if youse likes de idea."

"I certainly do, but I can't be sure of selling as many papers every day as I sold to-day. I did better than I thought I would."

"Don't let dat worry youse. Everybody is down on deir luck once in a while. What d'ye say? Is it a go?"

"As far as I'm concerned, yes. I'm much obliged to you for taking me into the firm."

"Oh, dat's all right. Don't mention it. If youse hear of any of dem millionaires in Wall Street wantin' an interest, tell 'em de place is filled."

Thus Jimmy Small and d.i.c.k Box (as we must continue to call the strange lad for a time) formed a newsboy partnership that was destined to have a greater influence on their lives than either of them suspected.

CHAPTER X

AN ENCOUNTER WITH CONROY

"Well, now we's settled in our mansion," said Jimmy, "s'pose we takes a night off an' goes t' see a show."

"What kind?"

"Well, we kin git under de roof fer a quarter at a regular theater, or we kin git a seat in de top gallery of a continuous performance fer fifteen coppers. Den dere's de movin'-picture shows dat cost a nickel.

I generally takes dem in, 'cause I ain't allers so flush wid de coin as I am now. What d'ye say t' a movin'-picture show?"

"I've no objections. I never saw one. What are they like?"

"Never saw one! Crimps! If I didn't see a show once in a while I'd feel like a dead one!"

"That is, I suppose I never saw one," went on d.i.c.k, with a puzzled look. "Of course I can't remember what happened before--before I got to the box," he added with a smile.

"Well, we'll take in a movin'-picture show, an' mebby youse kin remember if youse ever saw one before."

"All right," agreed d.i.c.k, and they started out together.

The Bowery was ablaze with lights and there was quite a crowd in the street. It was the first night d.i.c.k had been out since his illness, and, before that, he could not remember having seen New York lighted up. He was much interested in everything he saw.

"Wait a minute," exclaimed Jimmy, as they pa.s.sed a tobacco store.

"I've got t' git some cigarettes. I'm all out."

He hurried inside, and came out smoking one, putting the remainder of the box in his pocket.

"I don't see why youse don't take a smoke," he said to d.i.c.k.

"I suppose because I never learned how. Do you like it?"

"Do I? Say, it's all to de merry. Better have one."

"No, thank you. I don't think it's a good thing for boys to smoke."

"Why not?"

"I've read somewhere that it makes them stunted. And it isn't good for their brains."

"Huh! It ain't hurt me none."

"How long have you been smoking?"

"Ever since I was twelve, an' I'm goin' on sixteen now. I keep right on growin'. Course I ain't sayin' much of me brain, but den I guess I never had much."

"I think you are very bright and quick," said d.i.c.k with earnestness.

"If you want to get on in the world I wouldn't think smoking would be good for you."

"Aw, all de kids does it. An' look at de men. Why, I seen a millionaire once an' he was smokin' a big black cigar."

"Perhaps; but I don't believe he smoked when he was a boy."

"Aw, sure he did. Smokin's fun."

"I wish you'd give it up," went on d.i.c.k. "It must cost you something."

"Oh, not much. Only a nickel a day. Crimps! I knows some fellers dat smokes three packs a day."

"That is too many, even for a man, I would think. But if you only spent five cents a day, that's thirty-five cents a week."

"All dat?" inquired Jimmy. "I never s'posed it was so high. Maybe I'm spendin' too much."

"Thirty-five cents is nearly a quarter of the amount we pay a week for our room," went on d.i.c.k.

"Well, I'll cut down some," promised Jimmy, "but I ain't goin' t' stop altogedder."

d.i.c.k wisely forebore to pursue the matter any further. By this time they were at the place where the moving pictures were shown, and d.i.c.k, who had most of the money, though Jimmy kept some, bought two tickets.

"Dere's a friend of mine. I want t' speak t' him," said Jimmy as they entered the place, for the performance had not yet begun after the last intermission. The newsboy saw Sam Schmidt in the next aisle.

"Say, Dutchy," he asked in a whisper, "did youse see anyt'ing about dat reward fer me friend yet?"

"No, not yet," replied the German youth. "I keeps lookin' in der baber, but I ain't seed nottings about no rewards fer der poy. Dere is a rewards fer a mans, und vun fer a vomans, but not any for dot poy.

But vait, don't give him up t' der bolice yet."

"I ain't goin t'. Him an' me is partners."

"Dot's right. Keep him safe py you, und mebby you'll git moneys for him. I'll keep on der vatch out."

"Dat's right, Dutchy. Say, youse ain't seen nuttin' of Mike Conroy lately, have youse?"