The newsboy strayed into one of these bar-rooms, not with any idea of drinking, for he never had been tempted to drink. The example of his stepfather had been sufficient to disgust him with intemperance. But it was an idle impulse that led him to enter. He sat down in a chair, and took up a copy of the "Morning Herald," of which he had sold a considerable number of copies, without having had a chance to read it.
Chancing to cast his eyes on the floor, he saw a pocket-book. He stooped down and picked it up, and slipped it into his pocket. He looked about him to see if there was any one present that was likely to have lost it. But, besides the bar-keeper, there was no one in the room except a rough-looking laborer in his shirt-sleeves, and it was evident that it did not belong to him, as he drew from his vest-pocket the money with which he paid for his potation.
The newsboy concluded that the pocket-book belonged to some patron of the bar, who had dropped it, and gone away without missing it. The question came up, what should he do with it? Was it his duty to hand it to the bar-keeper?
He decided that it was not. Bar-keepers are apt to have easy consciences, and this one was not a very attractive representative of his class. He would undoubtedly pocket the wallet and its contents, and the true owner, if he should ever turn up, would stand very little chance of recovering his money.
These reflections quickly passed through the mind of our hero, and he decided to retain the pocket-book, and consult some one, in whom he reposed confidence, as to the proper course to pursue. He had no idea how much the wallet contained, and did not venture to examine it while he remained where he was. He decided to ask Mr. O'Connor, the superintendent of the Lodging House, what he had better do under the circumstances.
"I will remain here awhile," thought Rough and Ready. "Maybe the owner of the wallet will miss it, and come back for it. If he does, and I am sure it is his, I will give it up. But I won't give it to the bar-keeper; I don't like his looks."
So Rufus remained in his seat reading the "Herald." He had never read the paper so faithfully before. While he was still reading, a sailor staggered in. He had evidently been drinking before, and showed the effects of it.
"A glass of rum," he said, in a thick voice.
"All right, sir," said the bar-keeper, obsequiously.
"I'm bound to have a jolly time," said the sailor. "I've just come back from a voyage, and I mean to make the money fly while I have it."