"That wouldn't suit us. Besides, you don't live with your parents."
"My father is dead; my mother lives in the country."
"You won't suit us, then. However, you can go back and speak to Mr. Talbot. There he is, in the rear of the store."
Ben had at first supposed that the young man with whom he was speaking was the proprietor. He did not dream that he was a clerk, working for nine dollars a week. He made application to Mr. Talbot, a middle-aged gentleman, not half so consequential as his clerk, but was asked essentially the same questions as before.
"I am afraid I must refuse you," said Mr. Talbot, kindly. "We require a boy who is used to the city streets, and we prefer that he should live with his parents. I am sorry for your disappointment."
"Thank you, sir," said Ben; but it was in rather a subdued tone. His prospects did not seem quite so good as a little while before.
Coming out into the street, Ben saw quite a crowd of boys and young men, who were following a tall lady, just in advance, and showing signs of amusement. It only took a glance to discover the cause of their mirth.
The lady wore a sack, evidently just purchased, on which was a card, bearing in large, distinct characters, the words:
"Cheap for Cash."
This it was that had excited the amusement of the crowd.