Blue went home at the usual time. Nothing beyond the five cents had been obtainable, and after a good deal of thought he had finally exchanged it for half a dozen buns, arguing that buns would taste better than bread without butter.
“Oh, I’m so glad you bought buns!” beamed Doodles. “I just love buns with currants in them!”
The meager dinner waited until one o’clock; then, as the mother had not come, the boys ate their share, feeding currants to Caruso and laughing to see him snap them up so joyously.
“Mother must have found work, don’t you think?” Doodles asked a bit anxiously.
“Sure, old feller! Don’t you be worryin’ ’bout that! She’ll come all right pretty soon.”
Blue loitered on a side street until the clanging of the school bell had ceased; then he boldly faced the throngs on the principal thoroughfare. He applied at a dozen or more offices for something to do, meeting only curt refusals. Finally a man more observing than the rest asked abruptly:—
“See here, why ain’t you in school? You’re not fourteen yet?”
“No, sir,” admitted the boy, with a guilty flush. “I stayed out to try to get a job.”
“Huh!” the man snorted. “Bet yer belong to the strikers! Don’t yer now?”
“Yes, sir; but my mother had to—”