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to see it till it is done."
Jimmy left the table, and Paul commenced his attempt. Now,

though Paul is the hero of my story, I am bound to confess that
he had not the slightest talent for drawing, though Jimmy did not

know it. It was only to afford his little brother amusement that
he now undertook the task.

Paul worked away for about five minutes.
"It's done," he said.

"So quick?" exclaimed Jimmy, in surprise. "How fast you work!"
He drew near and inspected Paul's drawing. He had no sooner

inspected it than he burst into a fit of laughter. Paul's
drawing was a very rough one, and such a horse as he had drawn

will never probably be seen until the race has greatly
degenerated.

"What's the matter, Jimmy?" asked Paul. "Don't you like it?"
"It's awful, Paul," said the little boy, almost choking with

mirth.
"I see how it is," said Paul, with feigned resentment. You're

jealous of me because you can't draw as well."
"Oh, Paul, you'll kill me!" and Jimmy again burst into a fit of

merriment. "Can't you really draw any better?"
"No, Jimmy," said Paul, joining in the laugh. "I can't draw any

better than an old cow. You've got all the talent in the family
in that line."

"But you're smart in other ways, Paul," said Jimmy, who had a
great admiration of Paul, standing" target="_blank" title="prep.&conj.虽然;还是">notwithstanding the discovery of his

artistic inferiority.
"I'm glad there's one that thinks so, Jimmy," said Paul. "I'll

refer to you when I want a recommendation."
Jimmy resumed his drawing, and was proud of the praises which

Paul freely bestowed upon him.
"I'll get you a harder drawing book when you've got through with

these," said Paul; "that is, if I don't get reduced to poverty by
having my stock in trade stolen again."

After a while came dinner. This meal in Mrs. Hoffman's household
usually came at twelve o'clock. It was a plain, frugal meal

always, but on Sunday they usually managed to have something a
little better, as they had been accustomed to do when Mr. Hoffman

was alive.
Paul was soon through.

He took his hat from the bureau, and prepared to go out.
"I'm going out to try my luck, mother," he said. "I'll see if I

can't get into something I like a little better than the
prize-package business."

"I hope you'll succeed, Paul."
"Better than I did in drawing horses, eh, Jimmy?"

"Yes, I hope so, Paul," said the little boy.
"Don't you show that horse to visitors and pretend it's yours,

Jimmy."
"No danger, Paul."

Paul went downstairs and into the street. He had no definite
plan in his head, but was ready for anything that might turn up.

He did not feel anxious, for he knew there were plenty of ways in
which he could earn something. He had never tried blacking

boots, but still he could do it in case of emergency. He had
sold papers, and succeeded fairly in that line, and knew he could

again. He had pitted himself against other boys, and the result
had been to give him a certain confidence in his own powers and

business abilities. When he had first gone into the street to
try his chances there, it had been with a degree of diffidence.

But knocking about the streets soon gives a boy confidence,
sometimes too much of it; and Paul had learned to rely upon

himself; but the influence of a good, though humble home, and a
judicious mother, had kept him aloof from the bad habits into

which many street boys are led.
So Paul, though his stock in trade had been stolen, and he was

obliged to seek a new kind of business, was by no means
disheartened. He walked a little way downtown, and then,

crossing the City Hall Park, found himself on Broadway.
A little below the Astor House he came to the stand of a

sidewalk-merchant, who dealt in neckties. Upon an upright
framework hung a great variety of ties of different colors, most

of which were sold at the uniform price of twenty-five cents
each.

Paul was acquainted with the proprietor of the stand, and, having
nothing else to do, determined to stop and speak to him.

CHAPTER VII
A NEW BUSINESS

The proprietor of the necktie stand was a slender,
dark-complexioned young man of about twenty-five, or thereabouts.

His name was George Barry. Paul had known him for over a year,
and whenever he passed his stand was accustomed to stop and speak

with him.
"Well, George, how's business?" asked Paul.

"Fair," said Barry. "That isn't what's the matter."
"What is it, then?"

"I'm sick. I ought not to be out here to-day."
"What's the matter with you?"

"I've caught a bad cold, and feel hot and feverish. I ought to
be at home and abed."

"Why don't you go?"
"I can't leave my business."

"It's better to do that than to get a bad sickness."
"I suppose it is. I am afraid I am going to have a fever. One

minute I'm hot, another I'm cold. But I can't afford to close up
my business."

"Why don't you get somebody to take your place?"
"I don't know anybody I could get that I could trust. They'd

sell my goods, and make off with the money."
"Can you trust me?" asked Paul, who saw a chance to benefit

himself as well as his friend.
"Yes, Paul, I could trust you, but I'm afraid I couldn't pay you

enough to make it worth while for you to stand here."
"I haven't got anything to do just now," said Paul. "I was in

the prize-package business, but two fellows stole my stock in
trade, and I'm not going into it again. It's about played out.

I'm your man. Just make me an offer."
"I should like to have you take my place for a day or two, for I

know you wouldn't cheat me."
"You may be sure of that."

"I am sure. I know you are an honest boy, Paul. But I don't
know what to offer you."

"How many neckties do you sell a day?" asked Paul, in a
businesslike tone.

"About a dozen on an average."
"And how much profit do you make?"

"It's half profit."
Paul made a short calculation. Twelve neckties at twenty-five

cents each would bring three dollars. Half of this was a dollar
and a half.

"I'll take your place for half profits," he said.
"That's fair," said George Barry. "I'll accept your offer. Can

you begin now?"
"Yes."

"Then I'll go home and go to bed. It's the best place for me."
"You'd better. I'll come round after closing up, and hand over

the money."
"All right! You know where I live?"

"I'm not sure."
"No. -- Bleecker street."

"I'll come up this evening."
George Barry walked away, leaving Paul in charge of his business.

He did so with perfect confidence. Not every boy in Paul's
circumstances can be trusted, but he felt sure that Paul would do

the right thing by him.
I may as well say, in this connection, that George Barry had a

mother living. They occupied two rooms in a lodging-house in
Bleecker street, and lived very comfortably. Mrs. Barry had an

allowance of two hundred dollars a year from a relation. This,
with what she earned by sewing, and her son by his stand,

supported them very comfortably, especially as they provided and
cooked their own food, which was, of course, much cheaper than

boarding. Still, the loss of the young man's earnings, even for
a short time, would have been felt, though they had a reserve of

a hundred dollars in a savings bank, from which they might draw
if necessary. But George did not like to do this. The

arrangement which he made with Paul was a satisfactory one, for
with half his usual earnings they would still be able to keep out

of debt, and not be compelled to draw upon the fund in the bank.
Of course, something depended on Paul's success as a salesman,

but he would not be likely to fall much below the average amount
of sales. So, on the whole, George Barry went home considerably

relieved in mind, though his head was throbbing, and he felt
decidedly sick.

Arrived at home, his mother, who understood sickness, at once
took measures to relieve him.

"Don't mind the loss of a few days, George," she said,
cheerfully; "we shall be able to get along very well."

"It'll only be part loss, mother," he said. "I've got Paul
Hoffman to take my place for half the profits."

"Paul Hoffman! Do I know him?"
"I don't think he has ever been here but I have known him for a

year."
"Can you trust him?"

"Yes, I'm not at all afraid. He is a smart boy, and as honest as
he is smart. I think he will sell nearly as much as I would."

"That is an excellent arrangement. You needn't feel uneasy,
then."

"No, the business will go on right."
"I should like to see your salesman."

"You'll see him to-night, mother. He's coming round this evening
to let me know how he's got along, and hand over the money he's

taken."
"You'd better be quiet now, George, and go to sleep, if you can.

I'll make you some warm tea. I think it'll do you good."
Meanwhile Paul assumed charge of George Barry's business. He was

sorry his friend was sick, but he congratulated himself on
getting into business so soon.

"It's more respectable than selling prize packages," thought
Paul. "I wish I had a stand of my own."

He was still a street merchant, but among street merchants there
are grades as well as among merchants whose claim to higher

respectability rests upon having rent to pay. Paul felt that it
was almost like having a shop of his own. He had always looked

up to George Barry as standing higher than himself in a business
way, and he felt that even if his earnings should not be as

great, that it was a step upward to have sole charge of his
stand, if only for a day or two.

Paul's ambition was aroused. It was for his interest to make as
large sales as possible. Besides, he thought he would like to

prove to George Barry that he had made a good selection in
appointing him his substitute.

Now, if the truth must be told, George Barry himself was not
possessed of superior business ability. He was lacking in energy

and push. He could sell neckties to those who asked for them,
but had no particular talent for attracting trade. He would have

been a fair clerk, but was never likely to rise above a very
moderate success. Paul was quite different. He was quick,

enterprising, and smart. He was a boy likely to push his way to
success unless circumstances were very much against him.

"I'd like to sell more than George Barry," he said to himself.


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