LITMIR.BIZ

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if you'll repeat the advice, Rachel, perhaps we can still profit by it," answered Mrs. Harding, with imperturbable good humor.

      "I told you you ought to be layin' up something agin' a rainy day. But that's always the way. Folks think when times is good it's always a-goin' to be so, but I know better."

      "I don't see how we could have been much more economical," said Mrs. Harding, mildly.

      "There's a hundred ways. Poor folks like us ought not to expect to have meat so often. It's frightful to think what the butcher's bill must have been for the last two months."

      Inconsistent Rachel! Only the day before she had made herself very uncomfortable because there was no meat for dinner, and said she couldn't live without it. Mrs. Harding might have reminded her of this, but the good woman was too kind and forbearing to make the retort. She really pitied Rachel for her unhappy habit of despondency. So she contented herself by saying that they must try to do better in future.

      "That's always the way," muttered Rachel; "shut the stable door after the horse is stolen. Folks never learn from experience till it's too late to be of any use. I don't see what the world was made for, for my part. Everything goes topsy-turvy, and all sorts of ways except the right way. I sometimes think 'tain't much use livin'!"

      "Oh, you'll feel better by and by, Rachel."

      "No, I shan't; I feel my health's declinin' every day. I don't know how I can stand it when I have to go to the poorhouse."

      "We haven't gone there yet, Rachel."

      "No, but it's comin' soon. We can't live on nothin'."

      "Hark, there's Jack coming," said his mother, hearing a quick step outside.

      "Yes, he's whistlin' just as if nothin' was the matter. He don't care anything for the awful condition of the family."

      "You're wrong there, Rachel; Jack is trying every day to get something to do. He wants to do his part."

      Rachel would have made a reply disparaging to Jack, but she had no chance, for our hero broke in at this instant.

      "Well, Jack?" said his mother, inquiringly.

      "I've got a plan, mother," he said.

      "What's a boy's plan worth?" sniffed Aunt Rachel.

      "Oh, don't be always hectorin' me, Aunt Rachel," said Jack, impatiently.

      "Hectorin'! Is that the way my own nephew talks to me?"

      "Well, it's so. You don't give a feller a chance. I'll tell you what I'm thinking of, mother. I've been talkin' with Tom Blake; he sells papers, and he tells me he makes sometimes a dollar a day. Isn't that good?"

      "Yes, that is very good wages for a boy."

      "I want to try it, too; but I've got to buy the papers first, you know, and I haven't got any money. So, if you'll lend me fifty cents, I'll try it this afternoon."

      "You think you can sell them, Jack?"

      "I know I can. I'm as smart as Tom Blake, any day."

      "Pride goes before a fall!" remarked Rachel, by way of a damper. "Disappointment is the common lot."

      "That's just the way all the time," said Jack, provoked.

      "I've lived longer than you," began Aunt Rachel.

      "Yes, a mighty lot longer," interrupted Jack. "I don't deny that."

      "Now you're sneerin' at me on account of my age, Jack. Martha, how can you allow such things?"

      "Be respectful, Jack."

      "Then tell Aunt Rachel not to aggravate me so. Will you let me have the fifty cents, mother?"

      "Yes, Jack. I think your plan is worth trying."

      She took out half a dollar from her pocketbook and handed it to Jack.

      "All right, mother. I'll see what I can do with it."

      Jack went out, and Rachel looked more gloomy than ever.

      "You'll never see that money again, you may depend on't, Martha," she said.

      "Why not, Rachel?"

      "Because Jack'll spend it for candy, or in some other foolish way."

      "You are unjust, Rachel. Jack is not that kind of boy."

      "I'd ought to know him. I've had chances enough."

      "You never knew him to do anything dishonest."

      "I suppose he's a model boy?"

      "No, he isn't. He's got faults enough, I admit; but he wouldn't spend for his own pleasure money given him for buying papers."

      "If he buys the papers, I don't believe he can sell them, so the money's wasted anyway," said Rachel, trying another tack.

      "We will wait and see," said Mrs. Harding.

      She saw that Rachel was in one of her unreasonable moods, and that it was of no use to continue the discussion.

      CHAPTER IV

      MRS. HARDING TAKES A BOARDER

      Jack started for the newspaper offices and bought a supply of papers.

      "I don't see why I can't sell papers as well as other boys," he said to himself. "I'm going to try, at any rate."

      He thought it prudent, however, not to buy too large stock at first. He might sell them all, but then again he might get "stuck" on a part, and this might take away all his profits.

      Jack, however, was destined to find that in the newspaper business, as well as in others, there was no lack of competition. He took his place just below the Astor House, and began to cry his papers. This aroused the ire of a rival newsboy a few feet away.

      "Get away from here!" he exclaimed, scowling at Jack.

      "What for?" said Jack.

      "This is my stand."

      "Keep it, then. This is mine," retorted Jack, composedly.

      "I don't allow no other newsboys in this block," said the other.

      "Don't you? You ain't the city government, are you?"

      "I don't want any of your impudence. Clear out!"

      "Clear out yourself!"

      "I'll give you a lickin'!"

      "Perhaps you will when you're able."

      Jack spoke manfully; but the fact was that the other boy probably was able, being three years older, and as many inches taller.

      Jack kept on crying his papers, and his opponent, incensed at the contemptuous disregard of his threats, advanced toward him, and, taking Jack unawares, pushed him off the sidewalk with such violence that he nearly fell flat. Jack felt that the time for action had arrived. He dropped his papers temporarily on the sidewalk, and, lowering his head, butted against his young enemy with such force as to double him up, and seat him, gasping for breath, on the sidewalk. Tom Rafferty, for this was his name, looked up in astonishment at the unexpected form of the attack.

      "Well done, my lad!" said a hearty voice.

      Jack turned toward the speaker, and saw a stout man dressed in a blue coat with brass buttons. He was dark and bronzed with exposure to the weather, and there was something about him which plainly indicated the sailor.

      "Well done, my lad!" he repeated. "You know how to pay off your debts."

      "I try to," said Jack, modestly. "But where's my papers?"

      The papers, which he had dropped, had disappeared. One of the boys who had seen the fracas had seized the opportunity to make off with them, and poor Jack was in the position of a merchant who had lost his stock in trade.

      "Who took them papers?" he asked, looking about him.

      "I saw a boy run off with them," said a bystander.

      "I'm glad of it," said Tom Rafferty, sullenly.

      Jack looked as if he was ready to pitch into him again, but the sailor interfered.

      "Don't

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