"Now," said Rufus, "we'll surprise Miss Manning. She won't be expecting you."

"Do you think Mr. Martin will come after me, Rufie?" asked Rose, anxiously.

"If he does he won't get you."

"I shan't dare to go out in the street."

"You had better not go out alone. I'll tell Miss Manning about it. I think it will be best to move to some other street, as long as Mr. Martin knows the old place."

"Maybe he'd like to adopt me instead of Rose," suggested Ben, humorously. "I'd make an interestin'-lookin' girl if I could only borrer a dress that would fit me."

"You'd have to give up smoking, Ben. Girls don't smoke."

"I'm afraid that wouldn't agree with me," said Ben.

"I guess Mrs. Waters would find you a tough customer, if she undertook to shut you up in the cellar."

"Yes," said Ben, "she'd find me as tough as a ten-year-old turkey."

At Printing House Square, Ben left the party, and resumed his professional occupation. As he will not again be mentioned in this story, I will mention that an account of his subsequent career may be found in "Mark, the Match Boy," the third volume of this series.

Miss Manning was sitting in her humble room sewing diligently. She was thinking sadly how cheerless and lonely it was since Rose had disappeared. She was not very sanguine about recovering her, since it was much easier to hide a little girl than to find her among such a wilderness of houses as the great city contains. But, as she sat at her work, a sound of footsteps was heard upon the stairs, and directly afterwards the door flew open, and little Rose, rushing forward, threw her arms around her neck.

"Have you come back again, Rose?" exclaimed the seamstress, joyfully.

"Yes, Miss Manning, I'm so glad to see you again;" and Rose kissed her again and again.

"How did you find her, Rufus?" asked Miss Manning, returning the embrace.

The newsboy related the story briefly.

Then Rose was called upon to give an account of all that had happened to her.

"What a wicked woman Mrs. Waters must be!" said the mild seamstress, with a display of indignation unusual for her. "She ought to be ashamed of herself to shut you up in a dark cellar."

"I was so afraid of the rats," said Rose, shuddering. "I was afraid they would eat me up."

"You'd make a pretty large mouthful for a common-sized rat," said Rufus, smiling.

"They might have bitten me, though," said Rose.

"Well, they shan't trouble you any more, little sister," said Rufus. "Mr. Martin will be a smart man if he gets hold of you again."

"He might carry you off, Rufie," said Rose, in momentary alarm.

"I'd like to see him do it," said Rough and Ready, drawing up his youthful form. "He'd wish he hadn't, that's all," he added, with a laugh.

"I think, Miss Manning," he proceeded, "we'd better move, so as to put Martin off the track. As long as Rose lives here, he'll be prowling round, and some time he might get hold of her again."

"I am perfectly willing," said the seamstress. "My week's up to-morrow, and I can move at once. Suppose we go out and find a place this afternoon."

"All right," said Rufus. "But I've got to leave you now. I've a business engagement down in Wall Street."

"Among the bulls and bears," said Miss Manning, smiling.

"Are there bulls and bears in Wall Street?" said Rose, alarmed. "Oh, don't go down there, Rufie. You'll get killed."

"They won't hurt me, Rose. I haven't got money enough," said the newsboy, smiling. "Don't be afraid. I'll come back early in the afternoon."

The newsboy took the nearest route to Wall Street, It is a short street; but an immense volume of business is transacted there every day. It is lined with banks and business offices, especially those of brokers, lawyers, insurance companies, and moneyed institutions. There were plenty of bulls and bears upon the street; but they looked very much alike, and Rufus could not tell them apart.

As these terms may seem mysterious to some of my young readers, it may be as well to say that "bulls" are those who are striving to carry up the price of stocks, and "bears" are those who are making an effort to depress them.

Our hero was not long in finding the office of Mr. Turner.

He had to go up a short flight of steps, at the head of which a door opened into a hall or entry-way. On one side of this was the office of Mr. Turner. Opening the office-door, he found himself in a large room fitted up with a counter, behind which were two or three young men, who were, no doubt, clerks.

"Is Mr. Turner in?" asked the newsboy, going up to the counter.

"Not just now; he's at the Board,"—meaning the Stock Board, where stocks are bought and sold. "Can I do your business?"

"No; Mr. Turner asked me to call."

"You can wait for him, if you like."

Rough and Ready sat down in an arm-chair, and took up the morning paper. He had been thus engaged about twenty minutes, when he heard the door open, and, looking up, saw Mr. Turner.

"Good-morning, Mr. Turner," said our hero, laying aside the paper, and rising.

"Oh, good-morning, Rufus. I am glad to see you. Wait a few minutes, and I will be at leisure."

He went behind the counter, and gave a few quick business directions to his clerks.

"James, go to the Park Bank, and get these shares transferred to John Wade," he said to the youngest clerk, who thereupon seized his hat and left the office.

It was not long before Mr. Turner was disengaged. Coming out from behind the counter, he drew up an arm-chair, and sat down opposite Rufus.

"So you are a newsboy?" he said.

"Yes, sir."

"But you don't want to be a newsboy always?"

"No, sir," said Rufus, promptly. "Only there isn't much chance for me to get anything better to do."

"How much do you earn by selling papers?"

"About eight dollars a week."

"And out of that you support your sister and yourself?"

"Yes, sir."

"I suppose you have not been able to lay up any money."

"Yes, sir."

"How much?"

"Three hundred dollars."

"Three hundred dollars!" repeated Mr. Turner, in surprise. "Surely you could not save up so much as that?"

"No, sir, I found it."

"Tell me about it."

Our hero told of his adventure in the bar-room.

"So you have not spent any of this money?"

"No, sir; I put it in the savings-bank."

"That is well," said the broker, approvingly. "It shows that you have more good sense than most boys of your class. Now I have a proposition to make to you. How should you like to enter this office?"

"I should like it very much, sir."

"Better than being a newsboy?"

"Yes, sir; there aint any chance to rise in the paper business."

"And here, if you do your duty, there will be a chance to rise."

"Yes, sir, that's what I mean."

"Very well, I will tell you what I will do. You did me a signal service last night. You saved me from losing a large sum of money, and, what is worse, from serious personal injury. I want to do some thing for you in return. I think you are a smart boy, and, what is better, an honest and trustworthy boy. It so happens that my youngest clerk is in poor health, and is about to leave my employment. I will give you his place."

"Thank you, sir," said Rufus.

"As to salary I shall for the present give you the same you have been earning by selling papers,—that is, eight dollars a week. It is nearly double what I have been accustomed to pay, but that is of no consequence. Besides this, I will give you two hundred dollars to add to your fund in the savings-bank, increasing it to five hundred."

"You are very, very kind," said Rufus.

"I owe you some kindness," said Mr. Turner. "There are other ways in which I shall find an opportunity to serve you. But of that we will speak here-after. When do you want to come?"

"Whenever you think best, sir."

"Then let it be next Monday morning, at nine o'clock. James will remain a week or two, till you get a little familiar with your duties. And now, my young friend, this is all the time I can spare you this morning. Good-by till Monday."

Mr. Turner shook hands with Rufus, and the latter left the office with the strange feeling which we always have when a great change is going to take place in our course of life. He was about to bid farewell to the life of a newsboy, and enter upon a business career in Wall Street. He could not help feeling a thrill of new importance as he thought of this, and his ambition was roused. Why should he not rise to a position of importance like the men whom he had heard of and seen, whose beginnings had been as humble as his own? He determined to try, at all events.

He returned to Miss Manning to acquaint her and Rose with his good fortune. The seamstress seemed quite impressed with the news.

"Who knows what may come of it, Rufus?" she said. "Some day you may be a rich man,—perhaps president of a bank."

"Which shall I be, Rose, a bull or a bear?" inquired Rufus, playfully.

"You can't be a bull," said Rose, positively, "for you haven't got any horns."

"Then I suppose I must be a bear," said the newsboy, laughing.

So Rufus ceased to be a newsboy, and here appropriately closes the story of "Rough and Ready; or, Life among the New York Newsboys." But a new career dawns upon our hero, brighter than the past, but not without its trials and difficulties. Those who are interested to hear of his new life, and are curious to learn what became of Mr. Martin, will find the account given in a subsequent volume, for next Christmas, to be called a "Rufus and Rose; or, The Adventures of Rough and Ready." Before writing this, however, I propose to publish, as the next volume of this series, the experiences of one of the newsboy's friends, under the title of