Rough and Ready

"What is it?"

"That if you find it is too hard on you to pay so much money, you will let me know."

"All right. So it's all settled?"

"Yes."

"Good!" said the newsboy, with an air of satisfaction. "Now I must be goin' to business. I don't know exactly what time it is, as I left my gold watch lyin' on the sofy in Leonard Street."

"Oh, what a story, Rufie!" said Rose. "He hasn't got any gold watch, Miss Manning, and we didn't have any sofy in Leonard Street."

"That's the way she's always exposin' me, Miss Manning," said the newsboy, laughing.

"Well, Rosy, good-by. It's time for the evenin' papers to be out, and I must be on hand, as the other boys."

He kissed his little sister, and hurried downstairs. As he was making his way towards the offices of the evening papers, he felt great satisfaction in thinking of his unexpected good fortune in finding so desirable a home for his little sister. Hitherto he had felt a great deal of anxiety about her, during his necessary absence during the day, knowing only too well the character of his stepfather. He had known that there was danger of little Rose being abused in his frequent fits of intoxication, and more than once his heart was filled with apprehension, as he ascended the stairs to the cold and cheerless room in Leonard Street, which he had been forced to call home for the lack of a better.

But now there was a great change for the better. He knew that Miss Manning would be kind to little Rose, and would take good care of her, as well as provide her with pleasant company, while he was on the street selling papers. It was pleasant to him also to reflect that the arrangement would be an advantageous one for the seamstress. He had noticed her pale cheek, and he felt sure that it proceeded, not only from steady and confining work, but also from a lack of nourishing food. She would now be able to live better and more comfortable, and without exceeding the sum which she had hitherto been accustomed to expend. In the first place, she would have to pay thirty-eight cents less weekly for rent, and though this may seem a very small sum to the boys and girls who may read my story, it represented to the poor seamstress the proceeds of an entire day's work, beginning at early morning, and extending for fourteen hours. So, while Rough and Ready thought principally of his sister, it pleased him to feel that in benefiting her he was also benefiting the one who had agreed to take charge of her.

Then, as to himself, although he would pass his nights at the Lodging House, and eat breakfast there, once a day he would be at the little room in Franklin Street, and this would make him feel that he had some share in his sister's home.

He made his way to the offices of the evening papers, obtained a supply, and was soon busily engaged in disposing of them. While he is thus engaged, we must go back to Leonard Street, which the newsboy and his sister have left, as they hope, forever.

CHAPTER VI.

MARTIN'S AWAKENING

James Martin lay in a drunken stupor for about an hour after Rough and Ready and his sister left the room. Then he roused a little, and muttered "Rose."

But there was no answer.

"Rose," he repeated, not stirring from his recumbent position, "have you got anything to eat in the house?"

But the little girl whom he addressed was already in her new home on Franklin Street.

"Why don't you answer?" demanded he, angrily. "I'll give you a licking."

As this threat also elicited no response, he turned over and rose slowly.

"The gal isn't here," he said, after looking about him. "She's gone out with her scamp of a brother. He's an obstinate young rascal. I'll give him a flogging some time."

Martin had often had the disposition to inflict punishment upon our hero, but there was a sturdy courage and firmness about Rough and Ready that promised a determined opposition. So he had escaped where a weaker and more timid boy would have suffered bad treatment.

Though Martin missed Rose he had no idea yet that she had left him for good, as the saying is. He supposed that she had gone out to stand by her brother when he was selling papers. He had often been drunk before, and probably expected to be often again. He felt no particular shame at disposing of the little girl's clothes for rum. He had somehow formed the idea that it was the newsboy's duty to support the family, and felt that he had no business to spend so much money on his sister's dress. He could not understand, therefore, why Rough and Ready should be so angry.

"Dressing up Rose like a princess!" he muttered. "We're too poor to spend money on good clothes I have to go about in rags, and why shouldn't she?"

Martin wore a suit which had done long and hard service. He wore a jacket of green cloth, frayed and dirty, while his other garments, originally black, were stained and patched. He wore no collar or necktie. On his head was a tall hat, which had already reached that outward condition when it is usually considered fit only to supply the place of a broken pane.

Such was the stepfather of the newsboy and his sister, and when to the description I add inflamed eyes, a red face, and swollen nose, I think my young readers will hardly wonder that the children had long lost all respect and attachment for him, if indeed they had ever felt any. When I think of the comfortable home he might have had, for he was a skilful workman and capable of earning good wages, I feel out of patience with him for preferring to lead a life so degraded and useless, doing harm both to himself and to others. But, in a great city like New York, there are many men who lead lives no better than James Martin, who, for the brief pleasure of the intoxicating cup, throw away their own happiness and welfare, and spoil the happiness of others. Think of this picture, boy-reader, and resolve thus early that such a description shall never apply to you!

Feeling hungry, Martin looked into the cupboard, and discovered part of a loaf of bread. He was disappointed to find no cold meat, as he had hoped.

"This is pretty poor living," he muttered. "That boy must pay me more money. He don't work hard enough. How can he expect three people to live on fifty cents a day?"

It did not seem to occur to Martin that he ought to have contributed something himself to the support of the family. So, while he was eating the bread, he continued to rail against our hero, and resolved to exact from him in future sixty cents daily.

"He can pay it,—a smart boy like him," he muttered. "He's lazy, that's what's the matter. He's got to turn over a new leaf."

Having eaten up the bread, and feeling still hungry, he explored the contents of his pocket-book. It contained twenty-five cents, being half of the money he had received from the old-clothes dealer for the little girl's dress.

"That'll buy me a drink and a plate of meat," he thought; "only there won't be any left. Money don't go far in these days."

But persons who get money as this was got, are not very apt to be disturbed much by economical thoughts. "Easy come, easy go," is an old adage and a true one. So Martin, reflecting that the newsboy was out earning money, of which he would receive the benefit, saw nothing to prevent his using the balance of the money to gratify the cravings of appetite.

He accordingly went to a neighboring saloon, where he soon invested his money, and then, thrusting his hands in his empty pockets, strolled listlessly about the streets. Passing through the City Hall Square, he saw Rough and Ready, at a little distance, selling his papers.

"Rose isn't with him," said Martin to himself. "Maybe she's gone home."

However, this was a point in which he felt very little interest. There was no particular object in addressing the newsboy on the subject, so he wandered on in a listless way wherever caprice led.

Strolling down Broadway, he turned into Dey Street, though he had no definite object in so doing. All at once he felt a touch upon his shoulder.

"Well, Martin, how goes it?" said a stout, active-looking man, of much more respectable appearance than Martin himself.

"Hard luck!" said Martin.

"Well, you don't look very prosperous, that's a fact. Where are you at work now?"

"Nowhere."

"Can't you find work?"

"No," said Martin.

The fact was that he had not tried, preferring to live on the earnings of his stepson.

"That's strange," said the new-comer. "Carpenters are in demand. There's a good deal of building going on in Brooklyn just now. I'll give you employment myself, if you'll come over to-morrow morning. I'm putting up three houses on Fourth Avenue, and want to hurry them through as soon as possible, as they are already let, and the parties want to move in. Come, what do you say?"

"I didn't think of going to work just yet," said Martin, reluctantly. "The fact is, I don't feel quite strong."

"Perhaps there's a reason for that," said the other, significantly.

"I don't feel well, and that's all about it."

"Perhaps you drink a little too often."

"I don't drink enough to hurt me. It's all that keeps me up."