nterruptions retarded his progress. He had not gone far
before he was invited into a game of ball, and this, of course, could
not be neglected. The game ending in a general conflict of the players,
caused by Bootsey's falling on top of another boy, whom he utterly
refused to let up unless it should be admitted that the flattened
unfortunate was "out," he issued from the turmoil in time to join in an
attack upon a peanut roaster and to avail himself largely of the spoils.
Enriched with peanuts, he had got as far as the City Hall Park when a
drunken man attracted his attention, and he assisted actively in an
effort to convince the drunken man that the Mayor's office was the ferry
to Weehawken. It was while engaged in giving these disinterested
assurances that he felt himself lifted off his feet by a steady pull at
his ears, and looking up he beheld Mr. Jayres.

"You unmitigated little rascal!" cried Mr. Jayres, "where've you been?"

"Nowhere," said Bootsey, in an injured tone.

"Didn't I tell you to get back promptly?"

"Aint I a-getting' back?"

"Aint you a-get--whew!" roared Mr. Jayres, with the utmost exasperation,
"how I'd like to tan your plaguey little carcass till it was black and
blue! Come on, now," and Mr. Jayres strode angrily ahead.

Bootsey followed. He offered no reply to this savage expression, but
from his safe position in the rear he grinned amiably.

Mr. Jayres was large and dark and dirty. His big fat face, shaped like a
dumpling, wore a hard and ugly expression. Small black eyes sat under
his low, expansive forehead. His cheeks and chin were supposed to be
shaven, and perhaps that experience may occasionally have befallen them.
His costume was antique. Around his thick neck he wore a soiled choker.
His waistcoat was low, and from it protruded the front of a fluted
shirt. A dark-blue swallow-tail coat with big buttons and a high collar
wrapped his huge body, and over his shoulders hung a heavy mass of black
hair, upon which his advanced age had made but a slight impression.

[Illustration: "WE'VE CALLED," SAID THE MAN, SLOWLY.]

His office was upon the top floor of a building in Murray Street. It
was a long, low room. Upon its door was fastened a battered tin sign
showing the words: "Absalom Jayres, Counsellor." The walls and ceiling
were covered with dusty cobwebs. In one end of the room stood an old
wood stove, and near it was a pile of hickory sticks. A set of shelves
occupied a large portio