ed?" This was the
question asked of Mr. Prim, as he sat reading his newspaper, one New
Year's morning. The question came through a servant who had just
answered the door-bell. Mr. Prim looked out of the window. The snow was
still falling. So he sent out word, "No shovelling wanted till the
storm's over," and went on with his reading.

By and by there was another ring at the door; and in a moment the
servant-girl came in, saying, "The snow-shovellers are here again, sir,
and they want to see you."

Mr. Prim stepped out into the entry, where he found two rough-looking
boys, both of whom greeted him at once with, "Wish you a happy new year!
Please, sir, it's done snowing now."

"That means," said Mr. Prim, "that you both want the job of clearing off
the sidewalk; but which am I to give it to?"

"Oh, sir!" said the bigger boy, "we are partners. I shovel, and Mike
sweeps."

"And what are your names?"

"Mine is Tom Murphy, and his is Mike Flynn."

"Then," said Mr. Prim, "the firm is 'Murphy & Flynn.'"

"That's it," said both boys with a grin.

"Well, Murphy & Flynn, I will employ you to do my shovelling to-day, and
I will give you fifty cents for the job; but I am very particular. You
must not leave a bit of snow anywhere about the steps or sidewalk."

"All right, sir," said the boys; and they went to work, while Mr. Prim
went back to his newspaper. He had not been reading many minutes, when a
loud shout in front of the house led him to look out of the window. The
picture shows what he saw.

There were the two boys, each mounted on one of the stone lions at the
head of the steps, and shouting at the top of his lungs in the
excitement of an imaginary race.

Mr. Prim was first astonished, then angry, then amused, at this
performance. He opened the window, and called out sharply, "Look here,
boys! do you call that work, or play?"

The boys jumped down, and began to ply their broom and shovel with great
vigor. But Murphy looked up roguishly, and said, "We were just polishing
off the lions, sir."

"Yes," said Mr. Prim, "and a paroxysm of fun got the better of you.
Well, it's excusable on New Year's Day. But, if the firm of Murphy &
Flynn expect to succeed in business, they must not mix so much play with
their work." And Mr. Prim shut the window.

"I say, Mike," said Tom, "what was it the old man said had got the
better of us?"

"That's more than I can tell," said Mike. "I can't remember such hard
words. But I