As Paul had agreed, he spent the next day with Ben and Johnny in their store; and surely no shopman ever felt more pride in selling goods than they did. Paul acted as clerk; and a very inquisitive one he was, too, for he insisted on looking everywhere, so that he should know just what kind of goods his friends had for sale.

Trade was very good; and when the money was counted for about the fifteenth time, and it was found that they had sold twenty dollars’ worth of goods, there was not one of the four who did not believe that in less than a year Ben and Johnny would be numbered among the merchant princes of the country.

When it was time for Paul to go back to the hotel, the question of escorting him to the steamer arose, for he was to make one more effort to start with his father for Europe, and it was quite certain that there would be no mistake this time. The steamer was to sail at ten o’clock; and of course all the boys could not go, since some one must be left to attend to the store, though who that unfortunate one would be promised to be a vexing question, till Ben said,

“I’m the oldest, an’ so I s’pose it must be me. I’ll have to say good-bye now, Polly, for I can’t see you in the mornin’. When you come back, be sure an’ come up here, won’t you? And if you’ll write to us, Johnny an’ I’ll answer you back, for we’re goin’ to study awful hard, now that we’ve got a store of our own, an’ it won’t be long before we can write an’ figger an’ do all them things.”

Paul promised that he would send letters regularly to his friends; and when he left the store with Dickey to be sure that he did not miss the way, Ben felt more sad at parting with him than he would have thought it possible for a boy to feel who was half owner of such a beautiful store.

The business of selling newspapers seemed to have been nearly forsaken the next morning, for fully forty newsboys and at least a dozen boot-blacks were at the pier to say good-bye to Polly Weston, the boy who had once seemed so forlorn, and who had played Hamlet so successfully. Paul was highly pleased at such attention on the part of his acquaintances, and he presented nearly all of them to his father, who was not a little surprised at the number of friends his son had made in so short a time. After Paul had said good-bye to each one individually, and was just about going on board the steamer, Mopsey stopped him, taking him aside with a great show of secrecy.

“I own all the theatre now, Polly,” he whispered, “an’ when you come back I’ll let you be one of the actors, if you want to, an’ I’ll fix up a play where you’ll have all the best chances.”

Paul thanked Mopsey for his kindness; but before he could say whether he accepted the generous offer or not, his father called him, and he was obliged to go on board, leaving the sole proprietor (and author) of the theatre at a loss to know whether he should write a play especially for Paul or not.

Then the huge steamer slowly started from the dock, and Paul stood near the stern, where he could see his army of small acquaintances, the greater portion of whom had been so kind to him when he most needed friends. The ragged crowd were all swinging their hats, and Paul had just begun to wave his handkerchief when Mopsey saw the chance to bestow a very delicate compliment. Jumping on a pile of merchandise, where he could better see and be seen, he waved his hat furiously and shouted, in his shrillest dramatic key,

“Three cheers for Polly, an’ three more for Polly’s father!” Then that crowd of boys swarmed up over everything that would raise them more prominently into view, pushing aside any one in their way, and both looking and acting like a hive of bees getting ready to swarm, until they stood high above all the others.

“Now!” shouted Mopsey; and then the cheers were given with a will that startled the officers of the ship into looking around to see what distinguished passengers they had on board.

Then Paul waved his hat, the boys cheered again, and the ship was so far out into the stream that no more courtesies could be exchanged.

It is now two years since Paul Weston started for Europe, and he is expected home in a few weeks, as Ben or Johnny will tell you in case you should make inquiries. In that time very many gradual but not startling changes have been made in those boys whom we left in New York; therefore it may be assumed that Paul has also changed considerably, and in all probability for the better.

Ben, Johnny, and Dickey are still in business in the same place that Mr. Weston purchased for them, but one would hardly recognize the dirty, ragged boys whom Paul first met, in the neat, gentlemanly little tradesmen who are so courteous to their patrons, and so prompt in all their business transactions. That they did study, as Ben told Paul they would, is shown by their manner of speaking, their accounts, which are kept in the most precise order, and their general information when one enters into conversation with them.

And their business has improved quite as much as they have. By strict attention to it, and by integrity in all their dealings, they have gained new customers so fast that they are now obliged to use every available inch of space; and they intend to hire the next store, making the two into one large shop, as soon as Mr. Weston comes home to advise with them regarding it.

They still board with Mrs. Green; she has gone out of the fruit business now entirely, has moved into the dwelling directly over their store, and does nothing but attend to her boarders. Nelly, when she is not at school, acts as clerk for the boys, and is very useful to the firm during the rush of morning and evening trade.

Mopsey has gone out of the theatrical business altogether. He gave two more performances, but they were not as great successes as he had fancied they would be, and required more of his time than he could afford to give. He has given up both play writing and acting, very much to the benefit of his legitimate business. He still sells pea-nuts at Fulton Ferry, and has capital enough to start on a larger scale, which he says he shall do in another year.

About a year ago Dickey met Tim Dooley, the boy who made him bankrupt; but he did not try to make him return any of the money he had stolen. Tim was doing a small business in the way of blackening boots, having reaped no benefit from his ill-gotten gains, and Dickey, so far from showing any feeling of resentment, talked kindly to the boy, and offered to be his friend again if he would try to be honest.

Paul kept his promise, and wrote to his former partners very regularly. He had not neglected his studies while he was away, and in the last letter which the firm received from him he stated that in a few weeks he would return for the purpose of going to school in this country. He also wrote that his father had promised to let him remain a fortnight in New York, during which time he would be with his old friends, and again live over the time when he was a newsboy for ten days.

The story of Ben and Johnny is a true one; their start in life is not without many parallels. To be sure, it is but seldom that such opportunities for advancement come; but each boy has it within himself to win his way in the world quite as well as either Ben, Johnny, or Dickey. May all my young readers who have followed the fortunes of these three try to win the good opinion of those around them by earnest, honest purpose and integrity, like these boys, who knew no home until they made one for themselves.

THE END.