“I’ll get something to do to-day sure,” he said to himself. “Mother has the rent, thank goodness, and I haven’t that on my mind.”
He found his particular friend, Ed Potter, waiting for him at the corner.
Ed worked in a Vandewater Street printing house, and he and Jack always walked down town from the neighborhood of Grand Street together of a morning.
“Haven’t caught on yet, have you, Jack?” inquired Potter.
“No; but I’ve a dozen places here I’ve cut out of the ‘World’ that I’m going to look up.”
“Hope you’ll connect with one. If you knew anything about typesticking I could put you on to a job. There’s a shop on Nassau Street wants a boy to pull proofs, hold copy, and fill in at the case on plain reprint. If you were only up in the business you could get seven or eight dollars a week.”
“I should like to earn as much as that,” said Jack, eagerly, “but I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with less to start with.”
“Why, one of these jobs is in Brooklyn,” said Ed. “You aren’t going over there after work, are you?”
“Sure, if I fail to get it on this side of the bridge,” replied Jack, with a determined air.
“But it’ll cost you carfare every day.”