"It takes you to get round, Frank," he said. "I wonder I don't get invited to dine on Madison avenue."

"I give it up," said Frank.

CHAPTER VIII.

A NEWSBOY'S EXPERIENCES.

Frank slept that night at the lodging-house, and found a much better bed than he had been provided with by his late employer. He was up bright and early the next morning, and purchased a stock of morning papers.

These he succeeded in selling during the forenoon, netting a profit of thirty cents. It was not much, but he was satisfied. At any rate he was a good deal better off than when in the employ of Mr. Mills. Of course he had to economize strictly, but the excellent arrangements of the lodging-house helped him to do this. Twelve cents provided him with lodging and breakfast. At noon, in company with his friend d.i.c.k, he went to a cheap restaurant, then to be found in Ann street, near Park row, and for fifteen cents enjoyed a dinner of two courses. The first consisted of a plate of beef, with a potato and a wedge of bread, costing ten cents, and the second, a piece of apple-pie.

"That's a good square meal," said d.i.c.k, in a tone of satisfaction. "I oughter get one every day, but sometimes I don't have the money."

"I should think you could raise fifteen cents a day for that purpose, d.i.c.k."

"Well, so I could; but then you see I save my money sometimes to go to the Old Bowery, or Tony Pastor's, in the evenin'."

"I would like to go, too, but I wouldn't give up my dinner. A boy that's growing needs enough to eat."

"I guess you're right," said d.i.c.k. "We'll go to dinner together every day, if you say so."

"All right, d.i.c.k; I should like your company."

About two o'clock in the afternoon, as Frank was resting on a bench in the City-Hall Park, a girl of ten approached him. Frank recognized her as an inmate of the tenement-house where Mills, his late employer, lived.

"Do you want to see me?" asked Frank, observing that she was looking towards him.

"You're the boy that went round with the blind man, aint you?" she asked.

"Yes."

"He wants you to come back."

Frank was rather surprised, but concluded that Mills had difficulty in obtaining a boy to succeed him. This was not very remarkable, considering the n.i.g.g.ardly pay attached to the office.

"Did he send you to find me?" asked our hero.

"Yes; he says you needn't pa.s.s that money if you'll come back."

"Tell him that I don't want to come back," said Frank, promptly. "I can do better working for myself."

"He wants to know what you are doing," continued the girl.

"Does he? You can tell him that I am a newsboy."

"He says if you don't come back he'll have you arrested for stealing money from him. You mustn't be mad with me. That's what he told me to say."

"I don't blame you," said Frank, hotly; "but you can tell him that he is a liar."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare to tell him that; he would beat me."

"How can he do that, when he can't see where you are?"

"I don't know how it is, but he can go right up to where you are just as well as if he could see."

"So he can. He's a humbug and a fraud. His eyes may not be very good, but he can see for all that. He pretends to be blind so as to make money."

"That's what mother and I think," said the girl. "So you won't come back?"

"Not much. He can hire some other boy, and starve him. He won't get me."

"Aint you afraid he'll have you arrested for stealing?" asked the girl.

"If he tries that I'll expose him for wanting me to pa.s.s a counterfeit note. I never took a cent from him."

"He'll be awful mad," said the little girl.

"Let him. If he had treated me decently I would have stayed with him.

Now I'm glad I left him."

Mills was indeed furious when, by degrees, he had drawn from his young messenger what Frank had said. He was sorry to lose him, for he was the most truthful and satisfactory guide he had ever employed, and he now regretted that he had driven him away by his unreasonable exactions. He considered whether it would be worth while to have Frank arrested on a false charge of theft, but was restrained by the fear that he would himself be implicated in pa.s.sing counterfeit money, that is, in intention. He succeeded in engaging another boy, who really stole from him, and finally secured a girl, for whose services, however, he was obliged to pay her mother twenty cents every time she went out with him.

Mean and miserly as he was, he agreed to this with reluctance, and only as a measure of necessity.

As he became more accustomed to his new occupation Frank succeeded better. He was a boy of considerable energy, and was on the alert for customers. It was not long before his earnings exceeded those of d.i.c.k Rafferty, who was inclined to take things easily.

One evening d.i.c.k was lamenting that he could not go to the Old Bowery.

"There's a bully play, Frank," he said. "There's a lot of fightin' in it."

"What is it called, d.i.c.k?"

"'The Scalpers of the Plains.' There's five men murdered in the first act. Oh, it's elegant!"

"Why don't you go, then, d.i.c.k?"

"Cause I'm dead-broke--busted. That's why. I aint had much luck this week, and it took all my money to pay for my lodgin's and grub."

"Do you want very much to go to the theatre, d.i.c.k?"

"Of course I do; but it aint no use. My credit aint good, and I haint no money in the bank."

"How much does it cost?"

"Fifteen cents, in the top gallery."

"Can you see there?"