“Well, what do you want me to do? I suppose you came here for some purpose.”
“We want you to go away from dis corner. You can go on Broadway, and den you won’t interfere wid me and Patsy.”
“But I may interfere with some other boys.”
“Dat’s nothing to us. Dis is your last day here. To-morrer you must sell somewhere else.”
Ben was a boy of spirit, and he did not fancy being ordered away by rival newsboys. He felt that he had just as much right to sell papers on the Bowery as any one else, and he did not propose to submit to dictation.
“Well, what do you say?” asked Mike.
“Wouldn’t it be just as well,” suggested Ben composedly, “for you and your friend to leave the Bowery?”
“Hear till him, Patsy. Get onto his cheek!”
“It seems to me, boys, that you would do better to attend to business. I’ve sold four papers while you have been talking to me.”
“We’re givin’ you a warnin’! Now, what yer goin’ to do about it?”