"If you don't want to hire me, I'll go," said Ben, independently.
"Well, young man, I'm afraid you'll have to go. The fact is, we should have to higher you before we could hire you;" and the clerk laughed at his witticism.
Ben naturally saw nothing to laugh at, but felt rather indignant. He stepped into the street, a little depressed at the result of his first application. But then, as he reflected, there were a great many other stores besides this, and he might have better luck next time. He walked on some distance, however, before trying again. Indeed, he had got above Bleecker Street, when his attention was arrested by a paper pasted inside of a shop-window, bearing the inscription:—
"CASH-BOYS WANTED."
Ben did not clearly understand what were the duties of a cash-boy, though he supposed they must have something to do with receiving money. Looking in through the glass door he saw boys as small as himself flitting about, and this gave him courage to enter and make an application for a place.
He entered, therefore, and walked up boldly to the first clerk he saw.
"Do you want a cash-boy?" he asked.
"Go up to that desk, Johnny," said the clerk, pointing to a desk about midway of the store. A stout gentleman stood behind it, writing something in a large book.
Ben went up, and repeated his inquiry. "Do you want a cash-boy?"
"How old are you?" asked the gentleman looking down at him.