"The picture papers go off as fast as any," said the street dealer. "But I'll tell you what, my lad, maybe I can make an arrangement for you to sell papers for me."
"I don't think I'd like to stand here all day," said Ben, supposing the other to mean to engage him to tend the stand.
"I don't mean that."
"Well, said Ben, "I'm open to an offer, as the old maid of sixty told a feller that called to see her."
"I'll tell you what I mean. I'll give you a bundle of papers every morning to take with you. You will sell what you can, and bring back the rest at night."
"I like that," said Ben, with satisfaction. "But how much will I get?"
"It will depend on the price of the papers. 'Harper's Weekly' and 'Frank Leslie' sell for ten cents. I will allow you two cents on each of these. On the 'Ledger' and 'Weekly,' and other papers of that price, I will allow one cent. You'd make rather more if you bought them yourself; but you might have them left on your hands."
"Did you ever sell papers?"
"I used to sell the mornin' and evenin' papers before I went to baggage-smashin'."