After Dave's callers had gone, he stood looking down into Jimmie's tired face. "Poor little Jimmie," he said, "if I knew your paper route, I'd carry it myself rather than wake you up this morning. There's no use talking, that kid don't get enough to eat. I saw him give his little sister his supper money last night, and I know he went to sleep hungry; I never saw his beat. He preaches to every one in his sweet child way and he makes me feel as though I was the biggest devil on earth. By thunder, it breaks me all up." Dave was talking to himself, or thinking out loud.
He was very much moved by Jimmie's life and words; he pulled his old office chair beside Jimmie's pallet and began to weep. Big, strong Dave had broken down and was once more a boy. He was ashamed of his tears and tried to brace up and stop them; but when he would look at Jimmie's little pinched face on the old horse blanket, the tears would start afresh and creep through his dirty fingers and fall to the floor in spite of all he could do. Dave Beach was a strong, big fellow; he had drunk and fought his way through the world and for many years had suppressed his emotional nature. Tears to him were a sign of weakness and he would rather have lost his barn and horses by fire than that any one should see him cry. He jumped to his feet and started to pace up and down the office. "D—— fool that I am! I'm bawling worse than a yearling heifer. It's time to call Jimmie and he must not see me this way." He went to the hydrant out in the barn and washed and pulled himself together as best he could, and then went back to call Jimmie.
"It's time to get up, Jimmie," he said as he kicked the bottom of the boy's foot. Jimmie rose and rubbed his eyes, but was so tired and sleepy he fell back again upon the blankets.
"Come, my boy, I want you to go to the lunch counter with me and have a cup of coffee." He reached down and picked the boy up bodily and held him in his great, strong arms a moment, but had to drop him for safety; he would be weeping again if he did not get busy at something else.
"Go out and wash your face, Jim, and you'll feel better."
The cold water did its work.
"Guess I's hard to wake up, wasn't I, Dave?" said Jimmie, as he wiped his face on the lining of his cap—a trick of the newsboys.
"You're all right, Jimmie; but you need more sleep. After you get your papers carried, come back and go up into the haymow and sleep all morning."
"I can't do 'er, Dave. I got ter see Bill and call on Floe and take me first lesson from Mrs. Price and go ter Morton's house, all dis mornin'."
"Well, come, we'll go over and get something to eat," said Dave.