The boy dropped on his knees in an angle of the building, and put out his little box before him. In a second he was hard at work with a well-worn whiskbroom, brushing the dirt from the bottom of Ralph's trousers.
"How do you like shining shoes?" questioned Ralph, curiously.
"Don't like it, boss," was the truthful reply. "No, sir. But a feller has got ter do somethin' fer a livin'—or starve."
"And you can't get anything else to do?"
"Nixy. I've tried a hundred times, but it wasn't no go—all the stores and shops is so crowded."
"That is too bad."
"Maybe you kin give me a job?" went on the bootblack, suddenly, and he turned his blue eyes up in expectancy.
"Hardly," laughed Ralph. "I am looking for work myself."
"Dat's too bad. Do yer belong in New York?"
"No; I just arrived this morning."