After the above incident several weeks slipped by without anything out of the ordinary happening.

In the meantime Sam Pepper's place was thoroughly remodeled and became a leading cafÉ on the East Side—a resort for many characters whose careers would not stand investigation. The man seemed wrapped up in his business, but his head was busy with schemes of far greater importance.

He had said but little to Nelson, who spent a good part of his time at Mrs. Kennedy's rooms with Gertrude. Sam had found the letters and put them in a safe place without a word, and the boy had not dared to question him about them. Nor had Pepper questioned Nelson concerning what the lad knew or suspected.

The results of Gertrude's advertising were not as gratifying as anticipated; still the girl obtained seven pupils, which brought her in three dollars and a half weekly. Most of the lessons had to be given on Saturdays, when her pupils were home from school, and this made it necessary that she ride from house to house, so that thirty-five cents of the money went for carfare.

"Never mind," said the newsboy; "it's better than nothing, and you'll get more pupils, sooner or later."

The boy himself worked as never before, getting up before sunrise and keeping at it with "sporting extras" until almost midnight. In this manner he managed to earn sometimes as high as ten dollars per week. He no longer helped Pepper around his resort, and the pair compromised on three dollars per week board money from Nelson. The rest of the money our hero either saved or offered to Gertrude. All he spent on himself was for the suit, shoes, and hat he had had so long in his mind.

"I declare, you look like another person!" cried the girl, when he presented himself in his new outfit, and with his hair neatly trimmed, and his face and hands thoroughly scrubbed. "Nelson, I am proud of you!" And she said this so heartily that he blushed furiously. Her gentle influence was beginning to have its effect, and our hero was resolved to make a man of himself in the best meaning of that term.

One day Nelson was at work, when George Van Pelt came along.

"How goes it, George?" asked the boy.

"Nothing to brag about," returned Van Pelt. "How goes it with you?"

"I am doing very well. Made ten dollars and fifteen cents last week."

"Phew! That's more than I made."

"How much did you make?"

"Eight dollars. I wish we could buy out that news stand. I am sick of tramping around trying to sell books," went on George Van Pelt. "Last week I was over in Jersey City, and one woman set her dog on me."

"I hope you didn't get bit," said Nelson with a laugh.

"No, but the dog kept a sample of my pants."

"Have you heard anything more of the stand?"

"The owner says he's going to sell out sure by next week. He told me he would take ninety dollars cash. He's going away and don't want a mortgage now."

"Ninety dollars. How much have you got?"

"I can scrape up forty dollars on a pinch."

"I've got fifteen dollars."

"That makes fifty-five dollars. We'll want thirty-five more. How can we get that amount?"

"I reckon we can save it up—inside of a few weeks, if we both work hard."

"The man won't wait. There's a party will give him seventy-five dollars cash right away. He's going to take that if he can't get ninety."

At that moment Nelson caught sight of the familiar figure of a stout gentleman crossing the street toward him, and ran out to meet the party.

"Good-morning, sir!" he said. "Have some papers this morning?"

"Hullo! you're the boy that saved me from being run over a few weeks ago," returned the stout gentleman.

"Yes, sir."

"I'll have a Sun and a Journal, and you can give me a Times, too. How is business?"

"Good, sir."

"I was in a hurry that day, or I would have stopped to reward you," went on the gentleman.

"You did reward me, sir."

"Did I? I had forgotten. You see, that fire in Harlem was in a house of mine. I was terribly upset. But the matter is all straightened out now."

"I hope you didn't lose much."

"No, the loss went to the insurance companies." The stout gentleman paused. "My lad, I would like to do something for you," he went on seriously.

"Have you got a job for me?"

"I don't know as I have, just now. But if you need help——"

"I do need help, sir. Are you a capitalist?"

"A capitalist?" queried the man, puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean one of those gentlemen that loan money out on business? I've heard of 'em, down in Wall Street."

"Well, I sometimes loan money out."

"Then I'd like to borrow thirty-five dollars." Nelson beckoned to George Van Pelt, who had moved off a short distance. "You see, it's this way," he went on, and then told about the news stand that was for sale, and what he and the book agent wished to do.

Mr. Amos Barrow, for such was the gentleman's name, listened attentively.

"And you think this would be a good investment?" he questioned.

"Yes, it's a good stand," said Van Pelt.

"But you ought to have some money with which to stock up."

"We'll work hard and build it up," said our hero. "I know that neighborhood well. Old Maxwell never 'tended to business. I'll go around and get twice as large a paper route as he ever had. And we can keep plenty of ten-cent paper-covered books, and all that."

"And we can keep things for school children, too," put in George Van Pelt. "There is a school near by, and many of the children pass the stand four times a day."

"Well, I'll give you fifty dollars, Nelson," said Mr. Barrow. "That will help you to buy the stand and give you fifteen dollars working capital."

"You can't give me the money, sir. But you can loan it to me."

"But why won't you let me give it to you?" laughed the stout gentleman. "Isn't my life worth that?"

"It isn't that, sir. I want to do this in a regular business fashion."

"All right; have your own way, my lad."

"We'll give you a mortgage on the stand," said George Van Pelt.

"Never mind the mortgage. I believe I can read faces, and I'll take the boy's word," answered Mr. Barrow.

Hauling out a fat pocketbook, he counted out five new ten-dollar bills and passed them over to our hero.

"There you are," he said. "I would rather you would keep them. But if not, you can pay the amount back whenever it is convenient." And he passed over his business card. A few minutes later he hurried on.

"He's a brick!" was George Van Pelt's comment. "Now we can buy the stand."

"All right," answered Nelson. "But I want to get rid of my morning papers first."

"Well, I have several books to deliver. I'll do that, and then we can meet at the stand after dinner."

So it was agreed, and the pair separated.

Business continued good with our hero, and by eleven o'clock he had sold out. Anxious to look the stand over, he hurried off in that direction.

He found old Maxwell sitting on a soap-box, reading a sporting paper. The stand was full of dust and the stock much disarranged. Evidently the owner had lost interest in it.

"I understand you want to sell out," said Nelson.

"I do," answered Maxwell. "Want to buy?"

"I might buy if you sell out cheap enough."

"I want a hundred dollars."

"A hundred? I thought you'd sell out for seventy-five."

"No, I've been asking a hundred. I might knock off ten dollars, though."

Nelson looked the stand over, and asked some questions about the trade done.

"I'll give you eighty dollars cash," he said, at last.

"Make it ninety."

"No, eighty, and not a cent more."

"When will you take the stand?"

"This afternoon, and I'll pay fifty dollars now."

"All right, you can have it," replied Maxwell.

A bill of sale was drawn up, and Nelson paid the fifty dollars on account. Then he went off for lunch; first, however, taking an account of the stock on hand.

"What you take in from now on is mine," he said.

"All right, you shall have it," replied the old stand-keeper.