s fully able to push his
way. So, glancing at the telegraphic headings, he began to call out the
news in a business-like way. He had already taken notice of how the
other newsboys acted, and therefore was at no loss how to proceed.

He met with very fair success, selling out the twelve papers which had
been bought for him, in a comparatively short time. It might have been
that the fact that he was neater and better dressed operated in his
favor. At any rate, though a new hand, he succeeded better than those
who were older in the business.

But his neat dress operated to his disadvantage in another quarter. His
business rivals, who were, with scarcely an exception, dressed with no
great pretensions to style or neatness, looked upon the interloper with
a jealous eye. They regarded him as "stuck up," in virtue of his
superior dress, and were indignant to find their sales affected by his
competition.

"Who's he? Ever seen him afore?" asked Tim Banks of a newsboy at his
side.

"No; he's a new chap."

"What business has he got to come here and steal away our trade, I'd
like to know?" continued Tim, eying Ben with no friendly glance.

At that moment a gentleman, passing Tim, bought an "Evening Post" of
Ben. It was the third paper that Ben had sold since Tim had effected a
sale. This naturally increased his indignation.

"He's puttin' on airs just because he's got good clo'es," said the other
newsboy, who shared Tim's feelings on the subject.

"Let's shove him out," suggested Tim.

"All right."

Tim, who was a boy of twelve, with a shock head, which looked as if it
had never been combed, and a suit of clothes which bore the marks of
severe usage, advanced to Ben, closely followed by his confederate, who
had agreed to back him.

Ben had just sold his last paper when the two approached him. He did not
understand their object until Tim, swaggering up to him, said
offensively, "You'd better clear out; you aint wanted here."

Ben turned and faced his ragged opponent with intrepidity.

"Why aint I wanted here?" he inquired, without manifesting the least
symptom of alarm.

Tim rather anticipated that Ben would show the white feather, and was a
little surprised at his calmness.

"Cause yer aint, that's why," he answered.

"If you don't like my company, you can go somewhere else," said Ben.

"This is _my_ place," said Tim. "You aint got no right to push in."

"If it's your place, how much did you pay for it?" aske