Just at first Ben failed to make the money that he expected. There is a way to sell papers as there is to do any other kind of business, and it took a little time to learn.

But Ben meant to succeed and in the end he did. The first day he cleared but forty-five cents, the second, sixty-four, the third, seventy, and the fourth, eighty cents.

His good clothes attracted attention, not only on the part of customers, but also from other boys in the same kind of business.

This was especially the case with two boys who sold papers near Ben. These boys, whose names were Patsy Blake and Mike Parley, eyed Ben askance, and both took a violent prejudice against him, not only because he was a new comer, but also on account of his wearing clothes better than they could afford. This dislike was intensified when Ben began to be successful.

“Patsy,” said Mike, “did you take notice of that dude that’s sellin’ papers near Houston Street?”

“Yes, Patsy, the one that’s dressed like a Fifth Avenue swell.”

“Yes, he’s the one.”

“Don’t he put on style, though? I never dressed like him.”

“Thrue for you, Mike, nor I either.”

As Patsy was dressed in a ragged suit two or three sizes too large for him, and Mike’s suit was correspondingly small and equally shabby, the speakers were unquestionably right.

“Do you know his name, Mike?”

“I’ve heern him called Ben. I don’t know de udder name.”

“Any way, it’s a mane thing to take the bread out of the mouths of poor boys like you an’ me.”

“So it is, Patsy. Do you know him?”

“I went up to him last evenin’, and asked him for the loan of a cigarette, and what do you think he said?”

“What was it?”

“He said he never smoked cigarettes.”

“Likely he had some in his pocket.”

“Or else he smokes cigars.”

“Any way he wouldn’t give me one. I asked him would he go to Tony Pastor’s wid me, and he said he had an engagement.”

“I say, Mike, he looks down on the likes of us. What shall we do about it?”

“Lick him,” said Mike sententiously.

“We’ll give him a warnin’ to go somewhere else and not cut into our trade.”

“I’m with you, Patsy.”

“When will we do it?”

“Now.”

“Come on, then.”

Ben had just sold a paper when he saw the two boys approaching. It did not occur to him that they had any hostile intent till they stopped opposite and accosted him.

“I say, Fifth Averner, how’s business?”

“Do you mean me?” asked Ben.

“Yes, we means you.”

“It is pretty fair.”

“How much yer made to-day?”

“About sixty cents.”

“And I’ve made only forty.”

“And I forty-two.”

“I am sorry you haven’t done better,” said Ben sincerely.

“Oh, yes, much ye’re sorry,” returned Patsy jeeringly. “Why shouldn’t I be? You work hard, and I shall be glad to have you succeed.”

“Hear him talk, Mike.”

“It’s you that keeps us from earnin’ money.”

“How is that?”

“Because you get away with our trade. It’s a shame, so it is, to take the bread out’n our mouths.”

“You’re mistaken, boys. I only want my share of success.”

“You’ve got away two of my customers. I seed ’em buyin’ papers of you yest’erday afternoon.”

“I can’t tell your customers. When a man wants to buy a paper of me of course I sell to him. Isn’t that right?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Well, what do you want me to do? I suppose you came here for some purpose.”

“We want you to go away from dis corner. You can go on Broadway, and den you won’t interfere wid me and Patsy.”

“But I may interfere with some other boys.”

“Dat’s nothing to us. Dis is your last day here. To-morrer you must sell somewhere else.”

Ben was a boy of spirit, and he did not fancy being ordered away by rival newsboys. He felt that he had just as much right to sell papers on the Bowery as any one else, and he did not propose to submit to dictation.

“Well, what do you say?” asked Mike.

“Wouldn’t it be just as well,” suggested Ben composedly, “for you and your friend to leave the Bowery?”

“Hear till him, Patsy. Get onto his cheek!”

“It seems to me, boys, that you would do better to attend to business. I’ve sold four papers while you have been talking to me.”

“We’re givin’ you a warnin’! Now, what yer goin’ to do about it?”

“I’m going to stay where I am,” said Ben firmly. “I have as much right to be here as you.”

“It’s mane business for a boy like you to rob poor boys of their customers.”

“You talk about poor boys,” retorted Ben, “I’m a poor boy myself.”

“You look like it, wid them clothes!” said Patsy, with withering sarcasm.

“I wear good clothes, I admit, but they were given me by a gentleman in Boston. It was a piece of good luck. I haven’t any more money than either of you. I have to live on what I make.” This statement the two newsboys did not believe, and their looks showed that they did not.

“Me and Patsy are in earnest,” went on Mike. “You’ve got to keep away from this corner.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Den we’ll lick you.”

By this time Ben’s spirit was roused.

“You can do it now if you want to,” he said defiantly.

The challenge was accepted. Mike dropped his papers and aimed a blow at Ben. It was returned in good earnest, and then Patsy sailed in.Ben now proceeded to business. There was for about a minute a lively tussle, during which it was hard to tell which was uppermost and which underneath. But at the end of the first round the two invaders were lying on their backs, Patsy with a bloody nose, and Mike with a black eye, while Ben stood erect with a flushed face and somewhat disordered clothing, a victor.

Just then a policeman rounded the corner, and hastened to the scene of conflict.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

“Only a little scrap,” said Ben.

“The two boys jumped on this one,” put in a bystander, “and tried to lick him.”

The policeman was disposed to take the side of Ben as the best dressed.

“Do you want to complain of them?” he asked, turning to Ben.

“No,” answered Ben, “they are friends of mine. We were having a little fun.”

“If they try it again I’ll have some fun with them,” said the officer. “Now get up and go along with you.”

Patsy and Mike got up, looking rather sheepish. But Ben’s conduct impressed them favorably. But for him they would probably have been arrested and held for disorderly conduct.

“I say,” said Patsy, “you’re a brick, even if you do wear good clothes. You saved us from the cop, you did. Here’s my hand.”

Ben took it unhesitatingly, though it stood in decided need of washing.

“Here’s mine too,” added Mike. “You know how to fight, you do.”

“But you won’t make me fight any more, will you?” said Ben, smiling, as he shook Mike’s hand cordially.

“No, we won’t. You can stay here and sell papers as long as you like, and if anybody lays for you just call on me and Patsy.” “I will,” said Ben. “I will look upon you as my friends.”

“I suppose that is ‘conquering a peace,’” he reflected as the two newsboys left the scene of the conflict.

“I say, you fought well,” said a tall, well dressed man, who had watched the fight with interest. “What was up?”

“They warned me not to sell papers here. They said I was interfering with them.”

“And you wouldn’t have it? Good! I admire your pluck. How many papers have you got left?”

“Eight.”

“Here, give them to me.”

“But they are all the same.”

“Never mind! I want to help you along. Here’s a quarter. Never mind the change.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“How long have you been at this business?”

“Four days.”

“Does it pay?”

“Better than the business I left.”

“What is that?”

“Distributing circulars for a restaurant.”

“Well, that’s satisfactory. Would you like to work in the evening also?” “Yes, sir; I should like to increase my income.”

“Then come round to the People’s Theater with me. They are bringing out a piece of mine where a newsboy is introduced. I guess you can play the part.”

“I’ll try,” said Ben.

There was a halo of romance about the theater to Ben’s eyes, and he felt that he should be proud of treading the boards in even so humble a rÔle as that of newsboy.

“Come along, then! I will introduce you to the manager. The play is to be produced for the first time to-morrow evening. We thought we had a boy engaged, but he hasn’t shown up and we can’t wait for him.”