ing to a desk about
midway of the store. A stout gentleman stood behind it, writing
something in a large book.

Ben went up, and repeated his inquiry. "Do you want a cash-boy?"

"How old are you?" asked the gentleman looking down at him.

"Ten years old."

"Have you ever been in a store?"

"No, sir."

"Do you live in the city?"

"Yes, sir."

"With your parents?"

"No, sir," said Ben, with hesitation.

"Who do you live with, then?"

"With nobody. I take care of myself."

"Humph!" The gentleman looked a little surprised, not at the idea of a
boy of ten looking out for himself, for such cases are common enough in
New York, but at the idea of such a well-dressed lad as Ben being in
that situation.

"How long have you been your own man?" he inquired.

"I've only just begun," Ben admitted.

"Are your parents dead?"

"No, sir; they're alive."

"Then I advise you to go back to them. We don't receive any boys into
our employment, who do not live with their parents."

The gentleman returned to his writing, and Ben saw that his case was
hopeless. His disappointment was greater than before, for he liked the
looks of the proprietor, if, as he judged, this was he. Besides, boys
were wanted, and his size would be no objection, judging from the
appearance of the other boys in the store. So he had been sanguine of
success. Now he saw that there was an objection which he could not
remove, and which would be very likely to stand in his way in other
places.

CHAPTER IV.

A RESTAURANT ON FULTON STREET.

Ben kept on his way, looking in at the shop windows as before. He had
not yet given up the idea of getting a place in a store, though he began
to see that his chances of success were rather small.

The next pause he came to was before a bookstore. Here, too, there was
posted on the window:--

"BOY WANTED."

Ben entered. There were two or three persons behind the counter. The
oldest, a man of forty, Ben decided to be the proprietor. He walked up
to him, and said, "Do you want a boy?"

"Yes," said the gentleman. "We want a boy to run of errands, and deliver
papers to customers. How old are you?"

"Ten years old."

"That is rather young."

"I'm pretty strong of my age," said Ben, speaking the truth here, for
he was rather larger and stouter than most boys of ten.

"That is not important, as you will not have very heavy parcels to
carry. Are you well acquainted with the streets in this part of