“That’s what I don’t just know,” Seth replied, after a short pause. “Pip Smith, he said the country was a terrible nice place to live in, an’ when Snip an’ I had to come away, I thought perhaps we could find a chance to earn some money.”
“Haven’t you any parents, or a home?” Aunt Hannah asked in surprise.
“I don’t s’pose I have. I did live over to Mr. Genet’s in Jersey City; but he died, an’ I had to hustle for myself.”
“Had to what?” Aunt Hannah asked.
“Why, shinny ’round for money enough to pay my way. There ain’t much of anything a feller like me can do but sell papers, an’ I don’t cut any big ice at that, ’cause I can’t get ’round as fast as the other boys.”
“Did you earn enough to provide you with food, and clothes, an’ a place to sleep?”
“Well, sometimes. You see I ain’t flashin’ up very strong on clothes, an’ Snip an’ I had a room down to Mother Hyde’s that cost us eighty cents a week. We could most always get along, except sometimes when there was a heavy storm an’ trade turned bad.”
“I suppose you became discouraged with that way of living?” the little woman said reflectively.
“Well, it ain’t so awful swell; but then you can’t call it so terrible bad. Perhaps some time I could have got money enough to start a news-stand, an’ then I’d been all right, you know.”
“Why did you come into the country?”