"Get up, and come with me," said Dick.
"What yer want 'long o' me? I an't doing nothin'," he muttered.
"I know that; but I will give you a better place to sleep in. Come."
Bad words again. "I an't done nothin' to you. Le' me 'lone."
"I want you to come home with me. Did you ever hear of a newsboy called Big Dick? That's me."
"I an't afeard o' nothin'. H'ere goes!" And the poor little fellow, still believing the other was "chaffing," got on his feet. "Do you want t'other? He an't worth nothin', but he'll keep dark."
"Yes, both of you. Hurry him up; it is a terrible night."
"Come along, Joe. Where's yer spunk? I an't afeard o' nothin'."
"There's nothing to be afraid of," said Dick, as gently as the roaring storm would let him. "Don't talk now, but come on. I'll take you to a room with a fire in it," added Dick, in spite of himself feeling that he was bon prince to the little newsboys.
"Come on, Joe," urged the other, dragging and pushing the little newsboy, who was hardly more than a baby, but who seemed to whimper, sleepy and frightened, as no doubt he was, until, as quietly as the old stairs would permit, and almost holding their breath, they followed Dick to his room.