style="font-size:15px;"> "Well, I haven't got any money to pay for blacking boots."
"I didn't expect you had. I hear your boy has left you."
"Yes, the young rascal! He's given me the slip. I expect he's robbed me too; but I can't tell, for I'm blind."
"Do you want a new boy?"
"Yes; but I can't pay much. I'm very poor. I don't think the place will suit you."
"Nor I either," said Dick, frankly. "I'd rather make a living outside. But I've got a boy with me who has just come to the city, and is out of business. I guess he'll engage with you."
"What's his name? Let him speak for himself."
"My name is Frank Kavanagh," said our hero, in a clear, distinct voice.
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
"Do you know what your duties will be?"
"Yes; Dick has told me."
"I told him you'd want him to go round on a collecting tour with you every day," said Dick.
"That isn't all. You'll have to buy my groceries and all I need."
"I can do that," said Frank, cheerfully, reflecting that this would be much more agreeable than accompanying the old man round the streets.
"Are you honest?" queried the blind man, sharply.
Frank answered, with an indignant flush, "I never stole a cent in my life."
"I supposed you'd say that," retorted the blind man, with a sneer. "They all do; but a good many will steal for all that."
"If you're afraid I will, you needn't hire me," said Frank, independently.
"Of course I needn't," said Mills, sharply; "but I am not afraid. If you take any of my money I shall be sure to find it out, if I am blind."
"Don't mind him, Frank," said Dick, in a low voice.
"What's that?" asked the blind man, suspiciously. "What are you two whispering about?"
"I told Frank not to mind the way you spoke," said Dick.
"Your friend will lend you some, then."
"Not much," answered Dick, laughing. "I'm dead-broke. Haven't you got any money, Mr. Mills?"
"I have a little," grumbled the blind man; "but this boy may take it, and never come back."
"If you think so," said Frank, proudly, "you'd better engage some other boy."
"No use; you're all alike. Wait a minute, and I'll give you some money."
He drew from his pocket a roll of scrip, and handed one to Frank.
"I don't think that will be enough," said Frank. "It's only five cents."
"Are you sure it isn't a quarter?" grumbled Mills.
"Yes, sir."
"What do you say,—you, Dick?"
"It's only five cents, sir."
"Is that twenty-five?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then take it, and mind you don't loiter."
"Yes, sir."
"And be sure to bring back the change."
"Of course I will," said Frank indignantly, resenting his employer's suspicion.
"What do you think of him, Frank?" asked Dick, as they descended the stairs.
"I don't like him at all, Dick," said Frank, decidedly. "I wish I could get something else to do."
"You can, after a while. As you have no capital you must take what you can get now."
"So I suppose; but I didn't come to the city for this."
"If you don't like it you can leave in a few days."
This Frank fully resolved to do at the first favorable opportunity.
Dick showed him where he could buy the articles he was commissioned to purchase; and Frank, after obtaining them, went back to the tenement-house.
Mills scrupulously demanded the change, and put it back into his pocket. Then he made Frank pour out the ale into a glass. This he drank with apparent zest, but offered none to Frank.
"Ale isn't good for boys," he said. "You can cut the bread, and eat two slices. Don't cut them too thick."
The blind man ate some of the bread himself, and then requested Frank to help him on with his coat and vest.
"I haven't taken any money to-day," he said "I must try to collect some, or I shall starve. It's a sad thing to be blind," he continued, his voice changing to a whine.
"You don't look blind," said Frank, thoughtfully. "Your eyes are open."
"What if they are?" said Mills, testily. "I cannot see. When I go out I close them, because the light hurts them."
Led by Frank, the blind man descended the stairs, and emerged into the street.
CHAPTER IV.
"PITY THE BLIND."
"Where shall I lead you?" asked Frank.
"To Broadway first. Do you know Broadway?"
"Yes, sir."
"Be careful when we cross the street, or you will have me run over."
"All right, sir."
"If any one asks you about me, say I am your uncle."
"But you are not."
"What difference does that make, you little fool?" said the blind man, roughly. "Are you ashamed to own me as your uncle?"
Frank felt obliged, out of politeness, to say "No;" but in his own mind he was not quite sure whether he would be willing to acknowledge any relationship to the disagreeable old man whom he was leading.
They reached Broadway, and entered a store devoted to gentlemen's furnishing goods.
"Charity for a poor blind man!" whined Mills, in the tone of a professional beggar.
"Look here, old fellow, you come in here too often," said a young salesman. "I gave you five cents yesterday."
"I didn't know it," said Mills. "I am a poor blind man. All places are alike to me."
"Then your boy should know better. Nothing for you to-day."
Frank and his companion left the store.
In the next they were more fortunate. A nickel was bestowed upon the blind mendicant.
"How
