Dan The Newsboy 3

Dan The Newsboy 3

"What are you thinking of, mother? Do you suppose Tom Carver would

notice me, now that I am a poor newsboy?"

 

"Why shouldn't he?" demanded the mother, her pale face flushing. "Why

shouldn't he notice my boy?"

 

"Because he doesn't choose to," answered Dan, with a short laugh.

"Didn't you know it was disgraceful to be poor?"

 

"Thank Heaven, it isn't that!" ejaculated Mrs. Mordaunt.

 

"Well, it might as well be. Tom thinks me beneath his notice now. You

should have seen him turn his head to the other side as he walked by,

twirling his light cane."

 

"Did you speak to him, Dan?"

 

"What do you take me for, mother? Do you think I'd speak to a fellow

that doesn't want to know me?"

 

"I think you are proud, my boy."

 

"Well, mother, I guess you're right. I'm too proud to force myself upon

the notice of Tom Carver, or any other purse-proud sneak."

 

Dan spoke with a tinge of bitterness, and it was evident that he felt

Tom's slight more than he was willing to acknowledge.

 

"It's the way of the world, Dan," said his mother, sighing. "Not one of

all my friends, or those whom I accounted such, in my prosperous days,

has come to see us, or shown any interest in our fate."

 

"They can stay away. We can do without them," said Dan, sturdily.

 

"We must; but it would be pleasant to see some of the old faces," said

his mother, plaintively. "There is no one in this house that is company

for me."

 

"No, mother; you are an educated and refined lady, and they are poor and

ignorant."

 

"They are very good people, some of them. There is Mrs. Burke on the

next floor. She was in this afternoon, and asked if she couldn't do

something for me. She thought I looked poorly, she said."

 

"She's a brick, mother!"

 

"My dear Dan, you do use such extraordinary language sometimes. You

didn't talk so when we lived on Madison avenue."

 

"No, mother, but I associate with a different class now. I can't help

catching the phrases I hear all the time. But don't mind, mother; I mean

no harm. I never swear--that is, almost never. I did catch myself at it

the other day, when another newsboy stole half a dozen of my papers."

 

"Don't forget that you are a gentleman, Dan."

 

"I won't if I can help it, mother, though I don't believe anybody else

would suspect it. I must take good care not to look into the

looking-glass, or I might be under the impression that I was a

street-boy instead of a gentleman."

 

"Clothes don't make the gentleman, Dan. I want you to behave and feel

like a gentleman, even if your clothes are poor and patched."

 

"I understand you, mother, and I shall try to follow your advice. I have

never done any mean thing yet that I can remember, and I don't intend

to."

 

"I am sure of that, my dear boy."

 

"Don't be too sure of anything, mother. I have plenty of bad examples

before me."

 

"But you won't be guided by them?"

 

"I'll try not."

 

"Did you succeed well in your sales to-day, Dan?"

 

"Pretty well. I made ninety-six cents."

 

"I wish I could earn as much," said Mrs. Mordaunt, sighing. "I can only

earn twenty cents a day."

 

"You _earn_ as much as I do, mother, but you don't get it. You see,

there's a difference in earning and being paid. Old Gripp is a mean

skinflint. I should like to force one of his twenty-cent vests down his

miserly throat."

 

"Don't use such violent language, Dan. Perhaps he pays me all he can

afford."

 

"Perhaps he does, but I wouldn't bet high on it. He is making a fortune

out of those who sew for him. There are some men that have no

conscience. I hope some time you will be free from him."

 

"I hope so, too, Dan, but I am thankful to earn something. I don't want

all the burden of our maintenance to fall on you."

 

"Don't call it a burden, mother. There's nothing I enjoy so much as

working for you. Why, it's fun!"

 

"It can't be fun on rainy, disagreeable days, Dan."

 

"It wouldn't be fun for you, mother, but you're not a boy."

 

"I am so sorry that you can't keep on with your education, Dan. You were

getting on so well at school."

 

It was a thought that had often come to Dan, but he wouldn't own it, for

he did not wish to add to his mother's sadness.

 

"Oh, well, mother," he said, "something may turn up for us, so we won't

look down in the mouth."

 

"I have got my bundled work ready, Dan, if you can carry it round to Mr.

Gripp's to-night."

 

"Yes, mother, I'll carry it. How many vests are there?"

 

"There are six. That amounts to a dollar and twenty cents. I hope he'll

pay you to-night, for our rent comes due to-morrow."

 

"So it does!" ejaculated Dan, seriously. "I never thought of it. Shall

we have enough to pay it? You've got my money, you know."

 

"We shall be a dollar short."

 

"Even if old Gripp pays for the vests?"

 

"Yes."

 

Dan whistled--a whistle of dismay and anxiety, for he well knew that the

landlord was a hard man.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER III.

 

GRIPP'S CLOTHING STORE.

 

 

Nathan Gripp's clothing store was located about a quarter of a mile from

the City Hall, on Chatham street. Not many customers from Fifth avenue

owned him as their tailor, and he had no reputation up town. His prices

were undeniably low, though his clothes were dear enough in the end.

 

His patrons were in general from the rural districts, or city residents

of easy tastes and limited means.

 

The interior of the store was ill-lighted, and looked like a dark

cavern. But nearly half the stock was displayed at the door, or on the

sidewalk, Mr. Gripp himself, or his leading salesman, standing in the

door-way with keen, black eyes, trying to select from the moving crowds

possible customers.

 

On the whole Gripp was making money. He sold his clothes cheap, but they

cost him little. He paid the lowest prices for work, and whenever told

that his wages would not keep body and soul together, he simply

remarked:

 

"That's nothing to me, my good woman. If you don't like the pay, leave

the work for somebody else."

 

But unfortunately those who worked for Mr. Gripp could not afford to

leave the work for somebody else. Half wages were better than none, and

they patiently kept on wearing out their strength that Nathan might wax

rich, and live in good style up town.

 

Mr. Gripp himself was standing in the door-way when Dan, with the bundle

of vests under his arm, stopped in front of the store. Mr. Gripp was a

little doubtful whether our hero wished to become a customer, but a

glance at the bundle dispelled his uncertainty, and revealed the nature

of his errand.

 

"I've brought home half a dozen vests," said Dan.

 

"Who from?" asked Gripp, abruptly, for he never lavished any of the

suavity, which was a valuable part of his stock in trade, on his work

people.

 

"Mrs. Mordaunt."

 

"Take them into the store. Here, Samuel, take the boy's bundle, and see

if the work is well done."

 

It was on the tip of Dan's tongue to resent the doubt which these words

implied, but he prudently remained silent.

 

The clerk, a callow youth, with long tow-colored locks, made sleek with

bear's grease, stopped picking his teeth, and motioned to Dan to come

forward.

 

"Here, young feller," he said, "hand over your bundle."

 

"There it is, young feller!" retorted Dan.

 

The clerk surveyed the boy with a look of disapproval in his fishy

eyes.

 

"No impudence, young feller!" he said.

 

"Where's the impudence?" demanded Dan. "I don't see it."

 

"Didn't you call me a young feller?"

 

"You've called me one twice, but I ain't at all particular. I'd just as

lief call you an old feller," said Dan, affably.

 

"Look here, young chap, I don't like your manners," said the clerk, with