He walked rapidly through the streets, taking no note of what was passing around him, his thoughts were so full of this new trouble, for a great and sore trouble it seemed to him to lose Nan and Little Brother out of his life even for a few weeks. His way led him across the Common, but he hurried along with unseeing eyes until suddenly something bright attracted his attention, and he became aware that it was a shock of rough red hair under a ragged old cap. It was surely Carrots sitting on one of the benches, his eyes gazing moodily across the greensward to the street beyond. He did not notice Theo's approach, but started up quickly, as the latter stopped in front of him.
"Hold on, Carrots--don't clear out. I want to tell you something," cried Theo, hastily, laying a detaining hand on one ragged sleeve.
Carrots looked at him suspiciously. "D'know what yer got ter say ter me," he growled.
"Sit down here, an' I'll tell ye."
Theodore sat down on the bench as he spoke, and after a moment's hesitation the other boy dropped down beside him, but he kept a wary glance on his companion, and was plainly ready to "cut and run" at a moment's notice.
"You look's if you were down on your luck," began Theo, with a glance at the ragged garments, and dilapidated shoes of the other.
"'Course--I'm always down on my luck," responded Carrots, in a tone that implied, "what business is that of yours?"
"Sellin' papers now?"
"Yes, but a feller can't make a livin' out o' that. There's too many kids in the business, an' folks'll buy o' the kids ev'ry time, 'n' give us big fellers the go-by," Carrots said, in a gloomy tone.
"That's so. The little chaps always sell most," assented Theodore. "Why don't you get into some other business, Carrots?"