The disappointed little boy fetched a heavy sigh. He could remain on the car fare-free as long as he was selling or seeking to sell his papers, but if merely in transit he must pay like other people. It was a long way back to the business portion of the town for those fat, short legs, which had already been abundantly exercised to-day, and the little boy racked his brains for more scareheads. Then with eternally springing hope he blurted out:
"All about the grave robbery! Goulth still at large."
He cocked his beguiling eye up at a gray-bearded gentleman distinguished by a mild, refined aspect and a clerical coat.
The old clergyman looked disgusted.
The boy had sold but one paper on this trip, and the car was already approaching the outskirts of the town. There was a tremulo in his voice which in any other person of his years, less hardy and self-reliant than a newsboy, would have preceded a burst of tears. With him it only preceded a shrill squawk:
"Gorham's theaytre burned,—latest detailth, total dethructhion!"
Ned winced. He thought of the fiery, impulsive owner. How would he endure the loss, the humbled pride, the day of small things! With the weight of the recollection of his own wrong-doing Ned felt as if he were responsible for the moral ordeal as well as the material disaster—although he had no concern with either—which the manager seemed destined to encounter.
"Heavy Inthurance. New York Companies," the boy sang out unexpectedly.
Ned started as suddenly as if he had been shot.
"'Ere, boy," he said, fishing out of his pocket the change of the silver quarter which the "funny man" had bestowed upon him. "Gimme that paper."