"Why, I didn't think—that is, five dollars is a nice sum for a newsboy, isn't it?"
"Yes, ma'am; but I was saving up for a new suit of clothes."
"And he got away from you? Too bad! I wish I could help you, but unfortunately I have spent all of my money but this." She held out a quarter. "Will you accept it?"
Nelson looked at her, and something compelled him to draw back.
"Excuse me—but I'd rather not," he stammered. "Much obliged, just the same."
"You had better take the money," went on the young lady, whose name was Gertrude Horton. But Nelson would not listen to it, and so she had to place the piece in her purse again. Then she entered the coach standing near and was driven rapidly away. The newsboy gazed after the coach curiously.
"What a lot of money it must take to keep up such style!" he thought. "Those folks spend more in a week, I guess, than some folks on the East Side spend in a year. I don't wonder Sam is always growling about not being rich—after he's been out among the wealthy people he knows. I must say I'd like to be rich myself, just for once, to see how it feels."
Long before noon Nelson's stock of newspapers was exhausted. Without going to Sam Pepper's restaurant for lunch he stopped at a small stand on a side street, where he obtained several crullers and a cup of coffee for five cents. His scanty meal over he purchased a supply of evening papers and set to work to sell these, with the result, by nightfall, that all were gone, and he was thirty-five cents richer.
Sam Pepper's place on the East Side was half a dozen steps below the pavement, in a semi-basement, which was narrow and low and suffering greatly for a thorough cleaning. In the front was a small show window, filled with pies and vegetables, and behind this eight or ten tables for diners. To one side was a lunch counter for those who were in a hurry, and at the back was a small bar. The cooking was done in a shed in the rear, and beside this shed were two rooms which Nelson and Sam Pepper called their home.