All enmity vanished instantly. The pair were comrades in misfortune, and as such John was to be aided in every possible way.
"Joe'll be around in half an hour," Shultz explained generously. "Stay here with me and I'll tell him you're a new kid, and fix things up. How many are you going to buy?"
"Dime's worth."
"Think you can sell 'em all?"
"Easy."
Shultz studied him for a moment and decided that the novice had better learn the vicissitudes of the business through bitter experience. John wasn't the kind to take advice, anyway.
At last the green, one-horse cart pulled up by the delicatessen at the side of the old apartments. The boys crowded up to the wagon step. Shultz surrendered a nickel for his nightly quota of eight papers and pointed to his pupil.
"New kid, Joe."
"What's his name?"
"John."