“Sure!” he said; “I ain’t got nothin’ ag’inst you, ’cept what you put in the paper ’bout the Guard, and I guess you know now that you was on the wrong track, don’t you?”
Donatello did not answer the question. A new thought seemed to have come to him.
“Where is it that you work?” he asked.
“Oh,” replied the boy, “I do odd chores around mornin’s. I ain’t got no stiddy, all-day job.”
“How would you like it; an all-day job?”
“Doin’ what?”
“Working here with me.”
“Printin’ the paper?”
“Yes. Running the press. Washing the type. Sweeping the room. Going on the errand, peddling the paper. Oh, a what you call the general utility man. A man of all the work.”