CHAPTER IX.

THE NEWSBOY.

Little Joseph received the bundle of newspapers offered to him, flushing crimson under the trust—and the two lads went off together.

“Don’t go off the block,” said the newsboy, looking over his shoulder. “Walk up and down, and who knows but a little business may drop in.”

Joseph nodded, smiled, and settled the bundle of papers under his arm; at which the boy gave an encouraging flourish of the hand, and disappeared around the corner; while Robert paused a moment, and sent more than one anxious glance back upon his brother.

Joseph waited till they were both out of sight, then gathered up his courage and began marching up and down the side-walk with a bold step, but stopped still, and turned his eyes away in dread if any one approached him. Once or twice he attempted to cry out, but that was when no one was within hearing. Even then the voice fell back in his throat, and he looked around half frightened to death, terrified lest some customer should come upon him suddenly.

“Oh, dear! I shall never do it! There is no use in trying!” he muttered, disconsolately. “If it was only play, now, what a shout I could give. Goodness! there comes a man! If grandmother was only here, I do believe I Should hide behind her dress. But there isn’t a place, and he comes on so fast. Dear me!”

The man was, indeed, walking fast, and seemed a good deal excited. Joseph made a brave attempt at boldness, and marched toward him, blushing at his own audacity.

“Ledger! Dispatch!”

The words broke from his lips in a frightened cry; he trembled all over, and stood still, terrified by the sound, faint and hoarse as it was.

The very singularity of his cry drew the young man’s attention, and he turned quickly.

“Give me a paper,” he said, taking some money from his pocket-book. “Any one—I have no choice. Why, what a young thing it is—so well dressed, too! Selling newspapers must be a prosperous business, my little man?”

“I—I haven’t got a cent of change. What shall I do?” cried Joseph, looking wistfully at the twenty-five cents which loomed before him. “Please, sir, I never did this before, and don’t know how.”

“Never did it before,” cried the young man, smiling upon the lad. “I thought you looked above the business. Then you are such a mere baby; keep the money. By the way, you seem a sharp little fellow, and I can put you in the way of earning twice that amount.”

“Can you, sir? I’m glad of that. What shall I do?” cried the boy, all in a glow of delight.

“Nothing very difficult. Just keep along this garden wall, turn the corner, and you will see the house it belongs to. Watch the door till a young lady in a brown merino dress and straw bonnet comes out; follow her where she goes. Be sure you take the papers, that she may not think it strange; take sharp notice of the house she enters; then come back here at dusk, and I will give you a dollar bill.”

“A greenback, sir?”

“Yes; a new greenback, with Mr. Chase’s picture on the end.”

Joseph gathered up his papers in breathless haste; his cheeks glowed, his eyes sparkled with delight.

“I’ll do it—I’ll do it!” All at once his countenance fell, and his small figure drooped in abject disappointment.

“No, I can’t,” he said, with tears in his eyes. “These papers belong to another boy, and he told me not to leave the block.”

“That’s unfortunate,” said the young man, smiling at Joseph’s evident distress. “But you can stand at the corner and tell me which way she turns?”

“Yes, I can do that.”

“Better still,” cried the young man, struck by a sudden idea. “She had a parcel in her hand, and appears as if she took in work. Speak to her as she comes out; tell her that you know a person who wants some fine sewing done, and ask her where you shall bring it to. She’ll trust that face, no fear about that. So you shall earn the money, and keep that promise about leaving the block.”

“I—I should be a little ashamed to speak to a strange lady, sir.”

“Oh, nonsense! She isn’t exactly a lady, you know, only a sewing-girl. So there need be no trouble about speaking to her; I shouldn’t hesitate to do it myself. Just find out where she lives; but not a word about me, remember, and the dollar is yours.”

“I—I’ll try, sir,” was the faltering answer.

“That’s a brave fellow! Come here, just at dark, tell me all about it, and get your money.”

The young man passed on as he spoke, leaving the money in Joseph’s hand, forgetting, also, to take his paper.

“This is mine, all mine; he gave it to me,” thought the boy, gazing upon the money. “What a splendid man he is—and yet his eyes. I don’t like his eyes, they seem so tired. I wonder is he sick, or can’t he sleep at night? It looks like that. I wish he hadn’t asked me to do that other thing. How shall I speak to her? Not a lady because she sews! Why, grandma patches and mends, and turns, and washes, too; but I know she’s a lady, every inch of her. Then there’s sister Anna—isn’t she a lady, I wonder? I don’t like that man. He hasn’t the least idea what a lady is; I know he hasn’t.”

Joseph moved along the garden wall as these thoughts filled his mind, and found himself at the corner in view of a large white marble house, with a good deal of ornamental ground lying around it. A flight of marble steps led to the side-walks, and scrolls of carved work ran down each side white as drifted snow.

Robert would have recognized this house at once; but little Joseph had never seen it before, and stood gazing upon the steps, wondering if the lady, who was not a lady, because she took in sewing, would ever come out.

The boy had been watching, perhaps ten minutes, when a female came gliding down those marble steps, in a brown dress and straw bonnet, that seemed strangely familiar to him. He started forward and, uttering a glad cry, met his sister Anna face to face.

“Why Joseph, is it you? Dear child, how flushed his face is! What are you doing with all these papers, dear? Why, you look like a little newsboy!”

“So I am, Anna—that is, I’m going to be, and earn lots of money. I’ve hollered out papers once, and it didn’t frighten me very much. Some day, Anna, I’ll come and call out, ‘Ledger! Ledger!’ right under your window; that is, when I can do it without shaking so.”

Anna’s face had brightened beautifully when she first saw the boy; but you could see that tears lay close to her eyes as he ceased speaking.

“Poor child! poor, dear child!” she said, laying one hand on his shoulder, “perhaps we may come to this; but I hope not—I hope not.”

“See! I have got twenty-five cents already,” cried the lad, holding up the tiny note. “A gentleman gave it to me, and forgot to take his paper; and—and—oh, sister! I forgot; he wants to find out where you live, and has got lots of fine work for you. He is in such a hurry to have it done, that he offered to give me a dollar only to find out where to send it. Only think! But then he didn’t know that I was your brother. A dollar for finding you out! Isn’t that splendid, Anna?”

“Joseph, dear, what are you talking about?” said Anna, a little startled by this intelligence. “No gentleman can want me.”

“Oh, yes! there does. Only—only, now I think of it, he said you wasn’t a lady; and I know you are, and will tell him so to his face; that is, I would, only I am such a little boy.”

“Poor darling! It is of no consequence what any one thinks about us—so don’t let it fret you; but tell me, what was this man like? Did you ever see him before?”

“No, indeed, sister Anna, I never did.”

“Not on the night when we made pictures?”

“No; he wasn’t there.”

“It is strange,” muttered the young girl, a little troubled. “What could any one want of me?”

“He said that it was work he wanted done,” answered the boy, earnestly. “Perhaps Mrs. Savage has told him how nicely you stitch, and embroider, and hem handkerchiefs.”

“I think not,” said Anna, quite seriously. “Was he a tall man, Joseph?”

“No; not near so tall or large as Mr. Savage. But there he come—there he comes.”

Anna looked across the street, and saw a rather small young man, with marks of age on his features; which years had never given them; and those heavy, dim eyes, which grow out of sleepless nights and unsettled habits of life.

“It is a stranger; I never saw him before,” said Anna, in a low, frightened voice. “Come home with me, Joseph—come away at once. He looks this way, as if he were coming over.”

“No, he won’t. He’s walking on; don’t be frightened, Anna. He’s a very nice gentleman, and only wants some work done.”

“No, no! Come with me, child!”

“I mustn’t till Robert and the boy comes back; the papers are not mine, you know.”

“True, true; but come home the moment you can, dear; and tell that man nothing about me. I am afraid of him.”

“I won’t tell a word, Anna; nothing shall make me. There, he’s coming back again.”

Anna caught one glance of the man and walked on.

The moment she was out of sight, the young man came across the street, taking out his port-monaie as he approached the boy.

“Here is your money,” he said. “Now tell me where the young lady lives—where I can send the work?”

“She doesn’t want any work, sir!”

“Won’t you take the money, my boy?”

“No, sir!”

“Why not?”

“Because that young lady is my sister, and told me not.”