It was plain now why Mike put the package into his pocket before opening it. It was to exchange it for another packet into which the money had previously been placed, but which was supposed by the lookers-on to be the same that had just been purchased. The prize could afterward be placed in a new packet and used over again.
“That ain’t the same package,” said Paul, announcing his discovery. “He had it all the while in his pocket.”
“Look here,” blustered Mike, “you jest mind your own business! That’s the best thing for you.”
“Suppose I don’t?”
“If you don’t there may be a funeral to-morrow of a boy about your size.”
There was a laugh at Paul’s expense, but he took it coolly.
“I’ll send you a particular invitation to attend, if I can get anybody to go over to the island.”
As Mike had been a resident at Blackwell’s Island on two different occasions, this produced a laugh at his expense, in the midst of which Paul walked off.
CHAPTER IV
TEDDY GIVES UP BUSINESS
“Have you sold all your packages, Paul?” asked Jimmy, as our hero entered the humble room, where the table was already spread with a simple dinner.
“No,” said Paul, “I only sold twenty. I begin to think that the prize-package business will soon be played out.”
“Why?”
“There’s too many that’ll go into it.”
Here Paul related his experience of the morning, explaining how it was that Teddy had managed to distance him in the competition.
“Can’t you do the same, Paul?” asked Jimmy. “Mother’s got a gold dollar she could lend you.”
“That might do,” said Paul; “but I don’t know any boy I could trust to draw it except you, and some of them would know we were brothers.”
“I think, Paul, that would be dishonest,” said Mrs. Hoffman. “I would rather make less, if I were you, and do it honestly.”
“Maybe you’re right, mother. I’ll try it again this afternoon, keeping as far away from Teddy as I can. If I find I can’t make it go, I’ll try some other business.”
“Jimmy, have you shown Paul your drawing?” said his mother.
“Here it is, Paul,” said Jimmy, producing his drawing-book, from which he had copied a simple design of a rustic cottage.
“Why, that’s capital, Jimmy,” said Paul, in real surprise. “I had no idea you would succeed so well.”
“Do you really think so, Paul?” asked the little boy, much pleased.
“I really do. How long did it take you?”
“Only a short time—not more than half an hour, I should think,” said Mrs. Hoffman. “I think Jimmy succeeded very well.”
“You’ll make a great artist some time, Jimmy,” said Paul.
“I wish I could,” said the little boy. “I should like to earn some money, so that you and mother need not work so hard.”
“Hard work agrees with me. I’m tough,” said Paul. “But when we get to be men, Jimmy, we’ll make so much money that mother needn’t work at all. She shall sit in the parlor all day, dressed in silk, with nothing to do.”
“I don’t think I would enjoy that,” said Mrs. Hoffman, smiling.
“Will you be in the candy business, then, Paul?” said Jimmy.
“No, Jimmy. It would never do for the brother of a great artist to be selling candy round the streets. I hope I shall have something better to do than that.”
“Sit down to dinner, Paul,” said his mother. “It’s all ready.”
The dinner was not a luxurious one. There was a small plate of cold meat, some potatoes, and bread and butter; but Mrs. Hoffman felt glad to be able to provide even that, and Paul, who had the hearty appetite of a growing boy, did full justice to the fare. They had scarcely finished, when a knock was heard at the door. Paul, answering the summons, admitted a stout, pleasant-looking Irishwoman.
“The top of the mornin’ to ye, Mrs. Donovan,” said Paul, bowing ceremoniously.
“Ah, ye’ll be afther havin’ your joke, Paul,” said Mrs. Donovan, good-naturedly. “And how is your health, mum, the day?”
“I am well, thank you, Mrs. Donovan,” said Mrs. Hoffman. “Sit down to the table, won’t you? We’re just through dinner, but there’s something left.”
“Thank you, mum, I’ve jist taken dinner. I was goin’ to wash this afternoon, and I thought maybe you’d have some little pieces I could wash jist as well as not.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Donovan, you are very kind; but you must have enough work of your own to do.”
“I’m stout and strong, mum, and hard work agrees with me; but you’re a rale lady, and ain’t used to it. It’s only a thrifle, but if you want to pay me, you could do a bit of sewin’ for me. I ain’t very good with the needle. My fingers is too coarse, belike.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Donovan; on those terms I will agree to your kind offer. Washing is a little hard for me.”
Mrs. Hoffman collected a few pieces, and, wrapping them up in a handkerchief, handed them to her guest.
“And now what have you been doin’, Jimmy darlint?” said Mrs. Donovan, turning her broad, good-humored face toward the younger boy.
“I’ve been drawing a picture,” said Jimmy. “Would you like to see it?”
“Now, isn’t that illigant?” exclaimed Mrs. Donovan, admiringly, taking the picture and gazing at it with rapt admiration. “Who showed you how to do it?”
“Paul bought me a book, and I copied it out of that.”
“You’re a rale genius. Maybe you’ll make pictures some time like them we have in the church, of the Blessed Virgin and the Saints. Do you think you could draw me, now?” she asked, with curiosity.
“I haven’t got a piece of paper big enough,” said Jimmy, slyly.
“Ah, it’s pokin’ fun at me, ye are,” said Mrs. Donovan, good-humoredly. “Just like my Pat; he run into the room yesterday sayin’, ‘Mother, there’s great news. Barnum’s fat woman is dead, and he’s comin’ afther you this afternoon. He’ll pay you ten dollars a week and board.’ ‘Whist, ye spalpeen!’ said I; ‘is it makin’ fun of your poor mother, ye are?’ but I couldn’t help laughing at the impertinence of the boy. But I must be goin’.”
“Thank you for your kind offer, Mrs. Donovan. Jimmy shall go to your room for the sewing.”
“There’s no hurry about that,” said Mrs. Donovan. “I’ll jist bring it in meself when it’s ready.”
