mething must be done, or I'll
starve."

Every moment Jack felt better, and he arose from the table a little
more like himself.

"Ten cents left," he said, as he went out into the street. "That'll
buy me one more bowl of bread and milk. What shall I do then?"

[Illustration: _"Ten cents left."_]

It was a serious question, and demanded attention. It was still very
early for the city, but stores were beginning to open, and groups of
men were hurrying along the sidewalks on their way to business. Jack
went on, thinking and thinking, and a fit of depression was upon him
when he entered a street turning out from Broadway. He had not tried
this street before. It was not wide, and it was beginning to look
busy. At the end of two blocks, Jack uttered an exclamation:

"That's queer!" he said. "They all sell coffee, tea, groceries, and
that sort of thing. Big stores, too. I'll try here."

His heart sank a little, as he paused in front of a very bustling
establishment, bearing every appearance of prosperity. Some men were
bringing out tea-chests and bags of coffee to pile around the doorway,
as if to ask passers-by to walk in and buy some. The show-windows were
already filled with samples of sugar, coffee, and a dozen other kinds
of goods. Just beyond one window Jack could see the first of a row of
three huge coffee-grinders painted red, and back of the other window
was more machinery.

"I'll go in, anyway," he said, setting his teeth. "Only ten cents
left!"

That small coin, because it was all alone in his pocket, drove him into
the door. Two thirds down the broad store there stood a black-eyed,
wiry, busy-looking man, giving various directions to the clerks and
other men. Jack thought, "He's the 'boss.' He looks as if he'd say
no, right away."

Although Jack's heart was beating fast, he walked boldly up to this man:

"Mister," he said, "do you want to hire another boy?"

"You are the hundred and eleventh boy who has asked that same question
within a week. No," responded the black-eyed man, sharply but good
naturedly.

"Gifford," came at that moment from a very cheerful voice over Jack's
left shoulder, "I've cleaned out that lot of potatoes. Sold two
thousand barrels on my way down, at a dollar and a half a barrel."

Jack remembered that some uncommonly heavy footsteps had followed him
when he came in, and found that he had to look upward to see the face
of the speaker, who was unusually tall.