ent
salesman. However, in the course of an hour more, Paul had sold three
more to single customers. Then came a man who bought two. Then there was
a lull, and for an hour Paul sold none at all. But business improved a
little toward the close of the afternoon, and when it was time to close
up, our young merchant found that he had disposed of fifteen.

"My share of the profits will be ninety-three cents," thought Paul, with
satisfaction. "That isn't bad for an afternoon's work."

CHAPTER VIII

A STROKE OF ILL LUCK

Paul transferred his frame of goods to a neighboring office at the end
of the afternoon, the arrangement having been made by George Barry, on
first entering into business as a street merchant. This saved a good
deal of trouble, as otherwise he would have been compelled to carry them
home every night and bring them back in the morning.

"Well, Paul," asked his mother, when he returned to supper, "have you
found anything to do yet?"

"I have got employment for a few days," said Paul, "to tend a necktie
stand. The man that keeps it is sick."

"How much does he pay you, Paul?" asked Jimmy.

"Half the profits. How much do you think I have made this afternoon?"

"Forty cents."

"What do you say to ninety-three cents? Just look at this," and Paul
displayed his earnings.

"That is excellent."

"I had good luck. Generally, I shan't make more in a whole day than
this."

"That will be doing very well."

"But I shall make more, if I can. One fellow bought six neckties of
me this afternoon. I wish everybody would do that. Now, mother, I hope
supper is most ready, for selling neckties has made me hungry."

"Almost ready, Paul."

It was a humble meal, but a good one. There were fresh rolls and butter,
tea and some cold meat. That was all; but the cloth was clean, and
everything looked neat. All did justice to the plain meal, and never
thought of envying the thousands who, in their rich uptown mansions,
were sitting down at the same hour to elaborate dinners costing more
than their entire week's board.

"Are you going out, Paul?" asked Mrs. Hoffman, noticing that he took his
hat.

"Yes, I must go and see George Barry, and carry the money I have
received for sales."

"Where does he live?"

"In Bleecker street. I shan't be gone long."

Paul reached the number which had been given him. It was a large,
four-story house, with the appearance of a barracks.

"Mr. Barry," said the servant, in answer