not remain in the city and help unravel the tangle in which his affairs are involved. He is a man of ability, and as he is still in the prime of life, it may be that he will be able to redeem his promises and pay his debts in full, if sufficient time is given him.
“I can get no help or advice from Mr. Fielding,” thought Rodney. “I am thrown upon my own resources, and must fight the battle of life as well as I can alone.”
He got out in front of the Astor House. As he left the car he soiled his shoes with the mud so characteristic of New York streets.
“Shine your boots?” asked a young Arab, glancing with a business eye at Rodney’s spattered shoes.
Rodney accepted his offer, not so much because he thought the blacking would last, as for the opportunity of questioning the free and independent young citizen who was doing, what he hoped to do, that is, making a living for himself.
“Is business good with you?” asked Rodney. “It ought to be with the street in this condition.”
“Yes; me and de Street Commissioner is in league together. He makes business good for me.”
“And do you pay him a commission?” asked Rodney smiling.
“I can’t tell no official secrets. It might be bad for me.”
“You are an original genius.”
“Am I? I hope you ain’t callin’ me names.”
“Oh no. I am only paying you a compliment. What is your name?”
“Mike Flynn.”
“Were do you live, Mike?”
“At the Lodge.”
“I suppose you mean at the Newsboys’ ‘Lodge?’”
“Yes.”
“How much do you have to pay there?”
“Six cents for lodgin’, and six cents for supper and breakfast.”
“That is, six cents for each.”
“Yes; you ain’t comin’ to live there, are you?” asked Mike.
“I don’t know—I may have to.”
“You’re jokin’.”
“What makes you think I am joking?”
“Because you’re a swell. Look at them clo’es!”
“I have a good suit of clothes, to be sure, but I haven’t much money. You are better off than I am.”
“How’s that?” asked Mike incredulously.
“You’ve got work to do, and I am earning nothing.”
“If you’ve got money enough to buy a box and brush, you can go in with me.”
“I don’t think I should like it, Mike. It would spoil my clothes, and I am afraid I wouldn’t have money enough to buy others.”
“I keep my dress suit at home—the one I wear to parties.”
“Haven’t you got any father or mother, Mike? How does it happen that you are living in New York alone?”
“My farder is dead, and me mudder, she married a man wot ain’t no good. He’d bate me till I couldn’t stand it. So I just run away.”
“Where does your mother live?”
“In Albany.”
“Some time when you earn money enough you can ask her to come here and live with you.”
“They don’t take women at the Lodge.”
“No, I suppose not,” said Rodney, smiling.
“Besides she’s got two little girls by her new husband, and she wouldn’t want to leave them.”
By this time the shine was completed, and Rodney paid Mike.
“If I ever come to the Lodge, I’ll ask for you,” he said.
“Where do you live now?”
“I’m just staying at a place on Fourteenth Street, but I can’t afford to stay there long, for they charge a dollar a day.”
“Geewholliker, that would bust me, and make me a financial wreck as the papers say.”
“How did you lose your fortune and get reduced to blacking boots?” asked Rodney jocosely.
“I got scooped out of it in Wall Street,” answered Mike. “Jay Gould cleaned me out.”
“And I suppose now he has added your fortune to his.”
“You’ve hit it boss.”
“Well, good day, Mike, I’ll see you again some day–”
“All right! I’m in my office all de mornin’.”
CHAPTER VI
AN IMPUDENT ADVENTURER
While Rodney was talking with Mike Flynn he was an object of attention to a man who stood near the corner of Barclay Street, and was ostensibly looking in at the window of the drug store. As Rodney turned away he recognized him at once as his enterprising fellow traveler who had taken possession of the casket of jewels.
He did not care to keep up an acquaintance with him, and started to cross the street. But the other came forward smiling, and with a nod said: “I believe you are the young man I met yesterday in the cars and afterwards at Kentville?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I just wanted to tell you that I had got back my jewel box, the one for which I mistook yours.”
“Indeed!” said Rodney, who did not believe a word the fellow said.
“Quite an amusing mistake, I made.”
“It might have proved serious to me.”
“Very true, as I shouldn’t have known where to find you to restore your property.”
“I don’t think that would have troubled you much,” thought Rodney. “Where did you find your box?” he asked.
“In the car. That is, the conductor picked it up and left it at the depot for me. Where are you staying here in the city? At the Astor House?”
“No, I have found a boarding house on West Fourteenth Street.”
“If it is a good place, I should like to go there. What is the number?”
“I can’t recall it, though I could find it,” answered Rodney with reserve, for he had no wish to have his railroad acquaintance in the house.
“Is the gentleman who was
