ceman led him to decide
in the negative.

"Shine yer boots, gov'nor?" asked Ben, professionally.

"Yes," said Martin, rather unexpectedly.

"Payment in advance!" said Ben, who didn't think it prudent to trust in
this particular instance.

"I'll tell yer what," said Martin, to whom necessity had taught a
certain degree of cunning, "if you'll lend me fifty cents for a week,
I'll let you shine my boots every day, and pay you the money besides."

"That's a very kind proposal," said Ben; "but I've just invested all my
money on a country-seat up the river, which makes me rather short."

"Then you can't lend me the fifty?"

"No, but I'll tell you where you can get it."

"Where?"

"Up in Chatham Street. There's plenty'll lend it on the security of that
hat of yours."

The hat in question was in the last stages of dilapidation, looking as
if it had been run over daily by an omnibus, and then used to fill the
place of a broken pane, being crushed out of all shape and comeliness.

Martin aimed a blow at Ben, but the boot-black dexterously evaded it,
and, slinging his box over his back, darted down Nassau Street.

Later in the day he met Rough and Ready.

"I see the gov'nor this mornin'," said Ben.

"What, Mr. Martin?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He inquired after you in the most affectionate manner, and wanted to
know where you was at work."

"I hope you didn't tell him."

"Not if I know myself. I told him he'd see the name on the sign. Then he
wanted to borrow fifty cents for a week."

Rufus laughed.

"It's a good investment, Ben. I've invested considerable money that way.
I suppose you gave him the money?"

"Maybe I did. He offered me the chance of blacking his boots every day
for a week, if I'd lend him the money; but I had to resign the glorious
privilege, not havin' been to the bank this mornin' to withdraw my
deposits."

"You talk like a banker, Ben."

"I'm goin' to bankin' some day, when boot-blacking gets dull."

Ben Gibson had been for years a boot-black, having commenced the
business when only eight years old. His life had been one of hardship
and privation, as street life always is, but he had become toughened to
it, and bore it with a certain stoicism, never complaining, but often
joking in a rude way at what would have depressed and discouraged a more
sensitive temperament. He was by no means a model boy, though not as bad
as many of his class. He had learned to smoke and to swear,