"I've heard of her," said Ben. "She's stoppin' with some friends at the Island. They won't let her come away on account of likin' her company so much."
"I hope I shall never see her again," said Mark, with a shudder. "She is a wicked old woman. But I must be going, Ben."
"I s'pose you'll come and see a feller now and then."
"Yes, Ben, when I get time. But I hope to get a place soon."
Mark walked leisurely up Broadway. Having been confined to the house for three weeks, he enjoyed the excitement of being out in the street once more. The shop windows looked brighter and gayer than before, and the little match boy felt that the world was a very pleasant place after all.
He had passed Eighth Street before he was fairly aware of the distance he had traversed. He found himself looking into the window of a bookstore. While examining the articles in the window his eye suddenly caught the notice pasted in the middle of the glass on a piece of white paper:—
"BOY WANTED."
"Perhaps they'll take me," thought Mark, suddenly. "At any rate I'll go in and see."
Accordingly he entered the store, and looked about him a little undecidedly.