“Why, a ha’penny, o’ course!” said the newsboy gruffly as he scratched his head, for an uneasy suspicion lurked in it that the question was a jest at his personal expense. “Did yer fink they was a quid apiece?”
“I—I w-will purchase one if you please,” said the boy. “T-this is a halfpenny, is it not?”
He produced a shilling, and handed it to the newsboy, who gave him a newspaper in exchange.
“I am much obliged to you,” said the boy, lifting his cap and moving away hurriedly.
The newsboy stared with open mouth after the rapidly receding figure. He then bit the shilling, spat on it, and inserted it carefully in a hole in his somewhat nondescript nether garment.
“Law lummy!” he said.
The boy hurried back to the little room with the newspaper. Within him was a glowing sense of physical achievement which he tried to repress. As he sat down to take breakfast with his father, he said excitedly, “Thou wilt never guess what I have done, O my father!”
“I am sure, Achilles, I cannot,” said his father; and he added, as he placed an arm round the fragile form that was all shaken with excitement, “Whatever you have done, beloved one, I pray that you have not overtaxed your strength.”
“I have purchased one of those newspapers they sell in the streets of the great city, my father,” said the boy. “See, it is here. I trust, my father, there is no reason why I should not address my mind to that which is written therein. I am fifteen years old to-day.”
“As you will, beloved one,” said his father sombrely.