.

"That is for your trouble," he said.

"Thank you, sir," said Sam.

A Broadway stage came up, and they both were lost to view.

Sam was in good spirits over his good fortune.

"Seventy-five cents!" he said to himself. "That's what I call luck. I
don't believe Tim's done so well. It aint so hard to make your living
in New York, after all. I guess I'll go and get some breakfast."

CHAPTER XIX.

HOW SAM FARED.

On the strength of his good luck, Sam provided himself with a good
breakfast, which cost him forty cents. He felt pretty sure of earning
something more during the day to add to the remaining thirty-five. But
Fortune is capricious, and our hero found all his offers of service
firmly refused. He tried again to excite compassion by his fictitious
story of a starving family at home; but his appeals were made to the
flinty-hearted or the incredulous. So, about two o'clock, he went to
dinner, and spent the remainder of his money.

Again he spent the night with Tim in the wagon, and again in the
morning he set out to earn his breakfast. But luck was against him.
People insisted on carrying their own carpet-bags, to the great
detriment of the baggage-smashing business. Tim was no luckier than
Sam. About ten o'clock they were walking despondently through a side
street, discussing ways and means.

"I'm awful hungry, Tim," said Sam, mournfully.

"So am I, you bet!"

"I wouldn't mind if I had a couple of apples," said Sam, fixing his
eyes upon an old woman's apple-stand. "Wouldn't she trust?"

"Not much," said Tim. "You try her, if you want to."

"I will," said Sam, desperately.

The two boys approached the apple-stand.

"I say," said Sam to the wrinkled old woman who presided over it, "how
do you sell your apples?"

"A penny a piece," she answered, in a cracked voice. "Is that cheap
enough for ye?"

"I'll take five," said Sam.

The old woman began eagerly to pick out the required number, but
stopped short when he finished the sentence,--"if you'll trust me till
afternoon."

"Is it trust ye?" she ejaculated suspiciously. "No farther than I can
see yer. I'm up to your tricks, you young spalpeen, thryin' to chate a
poor widder out of her money."

"I'll pay you sure," said Sam, "but I haven't earned anything yet
to-day."

"Then it's I that can't be supportin' a big, strong boy like you. Go
away and come back, whin you've got money."

Here Tim broke in.

"My friend always pays his bills," h