"Come along, boy!" said Mills, roughly, to his little guide. "Are you going to keep me here all day?"
"I thought you wanted to speak to this boy."
"Well, I have got through. He has deserted me. It is the way of the world. There's nobody to pity the poor, blind man."
"Here's five cents for old acquaintance' sake. Mr. Mills," said Frank, dropping a nickel into the hand of the boy who was guiding him.
"Thank you! May you never know what it is to be blind!" said Mills, in his professional tone.
"If I am, I hope I can see as well as you," thought Frank. "What a precious old humbug he is, and how I pity that poor boy! If I had a chance I would give him something to save him from starvation."
Frank walked on, quite elated at the change in his circumstances which allowed him to give money in charity to the person who had once been his employer. He would have given it more cheerfully if in his estimation the man had been more worthy.
Frank's errand took him up Broadway. He had two or three stops to make, which made it inconvenient for him to ride. A little way in front of him he saw a boy of fourteen, whom he recognized as an errand-boy, and a former fellow-lodger at the Newsboy's Lodging-House. He was about to hurry forward and join John Riley,—for this was the boy's name,—when his attention was attracted, and his suspicions aroused, by a man who accosted John. He was a man of about thirty, rather showily dressed, with a gold chain dangling from his vest.
"Johnny," he said, addressing the errand-boy "do you want to earn ten cents?"
"I should like to," answered the boy, "but I am going on an errand, and can't spare the time."