“There are some newsboys who make a dollar a day,” suggested Cornelius.
“A dollar a day? That's six dollars a week.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you think I could go into that?”
“Of course you can, if you've got money enough to buy a stock of papers to start with. You'll be your own boss. Then there's boot-blacking; but that ain't genteel.”
“I should prefer selling papers.”
“Then you'd better try it. I've spoken to the landlady, and she'll take you for four dollars a week.”
Herbert closed the day in good spirits. He thought he saw his way clear to supporting himself in the city. Before he went to bed he wrote a cheerful letter to his mother and deposited it in a post office box at the corner.