"Gimme them fifteen cents, mister," said the boy, impatiently.

"But I don't like the place. I wouldn't stay here."

"It's cheap," said the young Arab. "Rafferty'll give you a lodging for ten cents, meals fifteen. You can't complain of that, now."

"I don't complain of the price. It's dirty. I wouldn't stay in such a dirty place."

"Oh, you're a fine gentleman, you are!" said the boy, sarcastically.

"You'd better go to the Fifth Avenoo Hotel, you had."

"I won't stop here. I want some decent place."

Meanwhile, Mrs. Rafferty herself had come to the door, and caught the meaning of the conference. She took instant umbrage at Herbert's last words.

"Dacent, do ye say?" she repeated, with flaming eyes and arms akimbo.

"Who dares to say that Bridget Rafferty doesn't keep a dacent house?"

"He does," said the Arab, indicating Herbert, with a grin.

"And who are you, I'd like to know?" demanded Mrs. Rafferty, turning upon Herbert angrily. "Who are you, that talks agin' a poor widder that's tryin' to earn an honest living?"

"I beg your pardon, madam," said Herbert, anxious to get out of the sc.r.a.pe. "I meant no offense."

"Lucky for you, thin!" said Mrs. Rafferty, in a belligerent tone. "Be off wid you both, thin, or I'll call a cop."

Herbert turned to go, nothing loath, but his guide followed him.

"Gimme them fifteen cents," he demanded.

"You haven't shown me a good boarding place."

"Yes, I did."

"You don't seem to know what I want. I'll give you five cents, and look out for myself."

The young Arab tried for ten; but Herbert was firm. He felt that he had no money to waste, and that he had selected a poor guide. It was wiser to rely upon himself.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

OPENING THE CAMPAIGN

Not knowing his way, but wandering wherever the fancy seized him, Herbert finally came to Washington Square, and took a seat on one of the benches provided for the public. He looked around him with interest, surveying the groups that pa.s.sed him, though without the expectation of recognizing anyone. But, as good fortune would have it, the very person he most desired to see strolled by.

Mr. Cornelius Dixon looked like a cheap swell. In his dress he caricatured the fashion, and exhibited a sort of pretentious gentility which betrayed his innate vulgarity. He stared in wonder when a boy with a bundle under his arm started from his seat, and hurried toward him with the greeting: "How do you do, Mr. Dixon?"

"Really," drawled Cornelius, "you have the advantage of me."

"Don't you remember me? I am your cousin, Herbert Carter."

"What! the boy the old fellow left his old clothes to?" asked Cornelius.

"The same one," answered Herbert, smiling.

"You haven't got any of 'em on, have you?" asked Mr. Dixon, surveying him with curiosity.

"Yes; this coat was made from my uncle's cloak."

"Shouldn't have thought it. It looks quite respectable, 'pon my honor.

When did you come to the city?"

"Only this morning."

"On a visit?"

"No; I want to find a place."

"Humph!" muttered Cornelius, thoughtfully. "Places don't grow on every bush. Where are you hanging out?"

"I haven't found a place yet. I want to find a cheap boarding house."

"You might come to mine."

"Perhaps you pay more than I could afford," suggested Herbert, who was not aware that Cornelius had a very limited income, and occupied a room on the fourth floor of a Bleecker Street boarding house, at the weekly expense of five dollars.

"You can come into my room for a day or two, and then we'll see what arrangement we can make. I'm going there now. Will you come along?"

Herbert gladly accepted the invitation. He was tired of wandering about the great city, not knowing where to lay his head; accordingly he joined his genteel cousin, and they walked toward Bleecker Street.

"Have you got any money?" queried Cornelius, cautiously.

"Not much. If I don't find something to do in a week, I must go back to the country."

"A week's a short time to find a place. But hold on! We want a boy in our store. I guess I could get you in."

"What wages would I get?"

"Two dollars a week, to begin with."

"I couldn't live on that, could I?"

"I guess not. Four dollars a week would be the least you could get boarded for."

"Then it will be better for me to go home than to stay here, and get into debt."