The first day’s work at selling newspapers was particularly hard for Paul Weston, and more than once was it necessary for both Ben and Johnny to interfere, to save him from what might have been serious trouble with that class of newsboys who made it their especial business to drive any new-comer away.

And it would not have been a very long or difficult task to have made Paul retire from the business if he had not had these two friends, so experienced in the ways and hard corners of street life.

According to the best judgment of both Ben and Johnny, the only course which Paul could pursue, with any hope of ever reaching his friends in Chicago, was to earn sufficient money by the sale of papers to pay his fare on there. It is true that while Paul had given himself up to grief on the previous evening, and they had left their hogshead home in order that he might be alone, a wild idea of writing to some of his relatives had crossed their minds; but it had not assumed such shape that they felt warranted in speaking of it to him.

The surest way, they reasoned, to restore him to his home was for him to earn sufficient money to take him there properly, and to that end they labored during the first day of his apprenticeship.

They neglected their own work to make it known among their acquaintances that he was under their immediate care, and that they should resent to the utmost of their power any effort to drive him from his task. They also kept a strict watch over him, and whenever they saw signs of discouragement upon his face, which they did many times, they encouraged him by kind words and advice to continue in his labors, holding before him the hope of meeting his parents once more as the reward of his exertions.

Never once did the thought come to them that by keeping him within their world they were most effectually hiding him from his parents; and since they were doing their best to aid him, even if it was the worst thing they could do, they were none the less friends to him in the truest sense of the word.

That noon, in order to cheer the sorrowful boy as much as possible, they resolved on having such a feast as they allowed themselves only on extra occasions, and that was to go to a cheap restaurant, where a whole dinner (such as it was) could be bought for fifteen cents. To them it was a rare treat; but, greatly to their disappointment, Paul did not enjoy it as they had expected he would.

The afternoon papers were purchased, and even though their new friend was so wholly unacquainted with the business, and they were obliged to spend so much of their time in defending him from the assaults of the more evil disposed of their calling, trade was more than ordinarily good.

The reckless expenditure of forty-five cents for dinner was made up, and when the day’s work was over they had a clear profit of forty-three cents; which, to say the least, encouraged them in their good work.

Instead of going directly to the home that Dickey Spry had founded, after their day’s work was over, Ben proposed that Paul be introduced to some of their mutual friends, in order that his change in life might be made as agreeable as possible, and then came the question as to who should be honored by the first call.

Ben was in favor of visiting Nelly Green, whose mother kept a fruit-stand on Chatham Square, and who was always to be found acting as clerk, while Johnny was anxious to visit a mutual friend by the name of Mopsey Dowd, who had risen from boot-black to the proud eminence of owning a pea-nut stand near Fulton Market.

There was quite an argument as to which one of their friends Paul would be most pleased to meet, and each one held so strongly to his own views on the matter that the question was only settled by the agreement to call on both.

Mopsey Dowd’s place of business being near the corner where they held their consultation, the three concluded to visit there first, and Paul was considerably interested in this work of making acquaintances.

The traffic at the ferry was still quite brisk, and Mopsey was in the full tide of prosperity, selling his goods as rapidly as though he had extensively advertised to close out his entire stock a little below cost.

Between the intervals of waiting upon customers and turning the roaster to keep the nuts from burning, Ben related Paul’s story to the pea-nut merchant, and Mopsey was so much interested that he not only favored Paul with a great deal of his attention, but insisted on presenting him with a large handful of the very best and warmest nuts.

Mopsey even went so far as to enter into negotiation with Paul for the purchase of the two tops that had caused him so much trouble in the getting. But owing to a sudden rush of customers the proposed trade was broken off, and the visitors took their leave, promising to call again at some time when they would be less liable to interruption from a pea-nut-hungry public. Then the three started for Nelly Green’s place of business, taking a roundabout course to get there, for the purpose of avoiding the crowd; and by doing this they met another of their acquaintances whom they were rejoiced to see, even though he was a creditor.

This individual was none other than Master Dickey Spry, who had earned his last name because of the quickness of his movements, and who had borne it so long that there was considerable doubt as to whether he remembered his parents’ name or not.

Master Spry was leaning against a lamp-post in an attitude of deepest dejection, looking down into the gutter as if he expected to see there some help arise to aid him in his evident trouble.

Now Dickey Spry was the founder of the house in which Ben and Johnny took so much pride. He it was who had discovered that snug place, replete with all needful modern conveniences, and Ben and Johnny had purchased it of him for fifty cents, paying ten cents per week on the instalment plan, and having already made three payments according to agreement.

Dickey had not noticed them when they first came up, and it was not until Ben touched him on the shoulder that he appeared to hear what they said.

“What’s the matter with yer?” asked Ben, anxiously. “You look as if somebody’d stole yer an’ carried yer off. What’s up now?”

“Busted,” replied Dickey, mournfully, and then he began surveying the gutter again.

“Busted!” echoed the two boys in the same breath; and Ben asked, eagerly,

“You don’t mean to say that you’ve gone up—failed?”

“That’s jest it. I trusted out as much as thirty cents, an’ then I got Tim Dooley to ’tend the stand for me this forenoon, an’ when I come back I couldn’t find anything but the stand, an’ that, you know, I hired. All ther nuts an’ Tim had gone off.”

The boys were so thoroughly overwhelmed by the news of this misfortune that it was some time before Ben could ask,

“But can’t you find out where Tim is?”

Dickey shook his head.

“I’ve been lookin’ everywhere, an’ I can’t hear nothin’ ’bout him, an’ I can’t make any of ther fellers pay me what they owe me, so I’m all cleaned out.”

Ben looked at Johnny inquiringly for an instant, and when that young gentleman nodded his head, he said,

“Well, we owe yer twenty cents that ain’t due yet, Dickey, but we’ve got ther money, an’ we’ll pay it to yer now.”

“I don’t want it,” replied the unfortunate tradesman, “an’ I didn’t say what I did to make you pay me. If you fellers will let me own twenty cents’ worth of ther house I’ll be all right, for then I’ll have a place to live, an’ I kin get back in ther boot-blackin’ bizness agin.”

It would be crowding rather close to put four into the hogshead; but matters could be arranged by turning their store-room into a bedchamber, and Dickey’s request was granted without the slightest show of hesitation.

“We’re goin’ round town awhile,” said Johnny to the bankrupt merchant, “an’ you’d better come along with us.”

Dickey shook his head very decidedly. He had no desire to mingle with the world while his loss bore so heavily upon him, and he was so emphatic in his determination to go directly to the home he had once sold, that no amount of persuasion could induce him to change his mind.

After promising to return early, in order to cheer him in his troubles, the boys continued their interrupted way to Chatham Square, where, by the greatest good-luck, both Nelly and her mother were found seated behind a huge basket piled high with peaches and pears. They were sure of having a pleasant call at this establishment, for Mrs. Green could attend to the customers while the daughter entertained them.

Nelly was rather diffident before this strange boy, who was dressed so well, and apparently had very little in common with the society in which she moved; but after Ben had given her a detailed account of Paul’s circumstances, as he had to Mopsey, the case seemed entirely changed, and she was even more sociable with Paul than with her friends. Johnny and Ben related everything of interest that they had learned since they had seen Nelly last, and concluded the recital by an account of Dickey Spry’s misfortunes.

Nelly seemed unusually anxious to know how they could all live in the rather narrow quarters, and after some conversation regarding it, disclosed the reason of her sudden interest by informing the boys that since they had called last her mother had moved, and that their home was larger than formerly.

“We’ve got two rooms that we sha’n’t use,” continued Nelly, speaking quickly in her excitement, “an’ mother thought perhaps you or some of the boys would come up an’ board with us. We’ll make it just as pleasant for you as we can, an’ it won’t cost you much more than it does the way you live now—an’ you don’t eat more than half as often as you ought to.”

Paul looked up with an expression of pleasure in his face, for the nearer the hour of retiring approached, the more distasteful and lonely did the hogshead home seem, he could say nothing against it, for it had served him as shelter when he was utterly alone; but this idea of living in a house, where some of the womankind would care for him, was very agreeable to him.

“Mother says that she’ll board you, an’ see to your clothes, an’ do your washin’, for two dollars’n a half a week, an’ I think it would be awful nice for us all to live together.”

The boys thought so too; but they also thought of their hogshead, which seemed so cheerful to them, if Paul did have a disdain for it, and there was a momentary feeling that they would not like to leave it, no matter what inducement might be offered. Then there arose before them the vision of a “regular home,” wherein some one would care for and minister to their comfort, and the advantages of living in a hogshead grew very few indeed.

“Come up to the house in about an hour, an’ see how you like it,” suggested Nelly, thinking they were hesitating about accepting the offer. Then, after she had told them the street and number at which she lived, she added, “We’ll be home in a little while now, an’ then if you should think that your house is the nicest, you can still live where you are.”

“We’ll come,” said Ben, decidedly, for he had already made up his mind that he should accept the proposition. Then he led the others away very quickly, as if he had some plan in his mind, as, indeed, he really had.

“We’ll go home an’ fix up, an’ then we’ll take the eye right outer them, for they think these are the only clothes we’ve got.”

Johnny was delighted with the proposition of “taking the eye out” of Mrs. Green and her daughter by the splendor of their raiment, and the two walked so fast, in their eagerness to begin the serious operation of dressing, that Paul could hardly keep pace with them.

After they had taken the usual precautions to prevent any one from seeing them when they readied the vicinity of their home, and had succeeded in getting safely into the hogshead unobserved, they found the ruined merchant laying plans for the rebuilding of his shattered fortunes. It was in vain that they urged him to accompany them on their call. To all their arguments he had but one reply, and that was to the effect that he did not believe in their scheme of boarding.

“It’s jest nothin’ more nor less’n tryin’ to put on airs,” he said, impatiently. “Anybody’d think you ’xpected to be ’lected aldermen by ther way you’re swellin’ round; an’ old Mother Green’ll be tickled most to death when she sees what fools you’re makin’ of yourselves.”

In fact it did look just a little as if they were “swelling” considerably. Ben blackened Paul’s, Johnny’s, and his own boots until they would have answered for mirrors, and then he attended to his own toilet. Johnny had red hair, which was quite coarse, and persisted in growing in all directions at the same time; but on this occasion he had reduced it to something like subjection by a vigorous application of the unburned end of the candle, and it clung to his head as if it had been stuck there by glue. His freckled face had been scrubbed until it looked as if it had been polished, and his hands were almost clean.

But it was upon his costume that he depended for the greatest effect. That he did have another coat was shown when he put on one that had evidently been rescued from the oblivion of an ash-barrel. It was very short-waisted and very long tailed; but this last defect, if indeed such a term could be applied, was remedied by one of the skirts having been cut off at least six inches shorter than the other, which gave a jaunty, careless appearance to the entire garment. His vest was the same he wore when at work; but by pinning the collar over so as to make it present more of the passably clean shirt, he changed its entire appearance. The trousers were unaltered, save that where the lower portions had been fringed by long usage, he had cut them off as well as he could with his knife. He deeply mourned the utter absence of a necktie, but consoled himself with the thought that the invitation had come at such a late hour in the day, and at a time when his funds were so low, that Mrs. Green and Nelly would probably understand the fact and overlook the omission.

Ben was clad in quite as startling a fashion, but in exactly the opposite way. Johnny’s coat was long, very long, while his was short—so short as to make it look as if it had originally belonged to a boy about half his size. His vest was buttoned snug to the chin, to conceal the ravages made by dirt on his shirt-front, while his necktie was made of the very narrowest and most brilliant red ribbon that could be found.

It would have been impossible to cut anything from the bottom of his trousers, for the very good reason that they were already so short as to give them the appearance of trying to crawl up his legs to get out of sight; but in his eyes the high polish of his shoes had a better chance of being seen. Ben’s face and hands were as clean as Johnny’s, but he had put none of the candle-grease on his hair, although he had smoothed it with water until two small streams were trickling down either side of his face, giving plenty of employment to his hands, as he tried to prevent it from running down his neck.

Paul looked on at these preparations with the greatest surprise; and when his friends announced that they were ready, and that he was to accompany them, he followed without a word, awed by the general magnificence.