The Princess and Joe Potter

"Who's McDaniels?"

"He's the blacksmith what owns the shanty where I live. You see, it was like this: I allers sold him a paper every afternoon, an' when it rained, or business was dull, I loafed 'round there, an' that's how I found the place."

"Do you live in the blacksmith's shop?"

"Well I should say I didn't! Right behind it is a shed he built, to keep a wagon in, but I guess he ain't got any now, leastways he don't flash one up. There was a lot of old iron an' the like of that thrown in at one end, an' when I saw it, I says to myself, says I, 'That's a mighty good shanty for some feller what don't want to give up all the money he makes for a place to sleep in,' and I began to figger how it could be fixed. It took me as much as two days before I could see into it, an' then I had it all in my mind; so I tackled McDaniels about hirin' it. He was willin', so long's I 'greed to be careful about fire, an' – well, if you're out of business now there's nothin' to keep you from comin' down to-night an' seein' it."

"I'm not only out of business, but I'm out of a home, Plums. You see, when I sold the fruit-stand of course I hadn't any right to count on sleepin' there, an' – "

"Didn't Sim Jepson offer you the chance?"

"He seemed to think it wasn't big enough for two."

"He didn't have any sich swell notions when you first started there, an' he wanted a place to sleep."

"Yes, I remember all about that; but it's no use twittin' a feller. He was willin' enough to bunk in with me, but if he don't want to turn about an' give me the same show, it ain't any of my business."

"Of course you can come to my place, an' stay jest as long as you want to, Joe, an' I'll be glad to have you; but if you're countin' on workin' down-town it won't be very handy."

"I ain't certain but I'll try my luck hangin' 'round the depot here waitin' for a chance to carry baggage. I've done them kind of jobs before, an' they didn't turn out so terrible bad. You see, with only sixteen cents, a feller can't spread hisself very much on goin' into business."

"You might buy papers, an' sell 'em here. It ain't a very great show for trade, but you won't have to work very hard, an' there's a good deal in that."

"Yes, Plums, there is, for a feller like you, what don't want to stir 'round much; but I'm ready to hustle, an' it wouldn't suit me nohow. You don't earn more'n fifteen or twenty cents a day."

"Not a great deal more," Master Plummer replied, in a tone of content, and a probable customer approaching just at that moment, he succeeded in making sufficient exertion to offer his wares for sale.

"That's jest about the way of it!" he exclaimed, as the gentleman passed into the building without giving heed to the paper held invitingly towards him. "There's no use to hustle 'round here, 'cause it don't pay. If they want to buy papers they buy 'em, an' if they don't, you can't give 'em away. There's one good thing about doin' business here, though, an' that is, the other fellers won't try to drive you out. It's mighty tough on you, droppin' all that money. If I'd had most eight dollars you can bet I wouldn't take the chances of losin' it. I'd sooner spend the whole pile buyin' swell dinners down on the Avenue."

"Yes, it's tough," Joe replied, musingly; "but I'd a good deal rather get rid of the money tryin' to make more, than spend it fillin' myself up with hash. When do you knock off work?"

"Oh, somewhere 'bout dark, 'less I've sold out before. Say, I know of a place where you can get the biggest bowl of stew in this city, for five cents, – 'most all meat. Of course there'll be a bone now an' then, – you expect that; but it's rich! We'll go there to-night, eh?"

"I ain't so certain whether a feller with only sixteen cents ought'er spend five of it fer stuff to eat," Joe replied, reflectively; "but if I make a few nickels 'tween now an' night, perhaps we'll take a whirl at it."

"A feller's bound to eat, whether he makes anything or not. So long's you've got that much money you might as well enjoy yourself. Now I say it's best not to go hungry, else you can't do so much work, 'an then – "

"I'll see you later," Joe interrupted, not caring just at the moment to listen to his friend's ideas on the subject of food, for it was well known among Master Plummer's acquaintances that his highest idea of happiness consisted in ministering to his stomach.

The fat boy gazed after the ruined merchant until the latter was lost to view amid the throng of pedestrians, and then in a dreamy, indolent fashion he turned his attention once more to the business of selling newspapers to such of the passers-by as requested him to do so, murmuring mournfully from time to time:

"Seven dollars an' eighty-three cents, an' a feller can buy custard pies two inches thick for a dime apiece!"

Having assured himself of a lodging-place, and decided as to what business he should pursue, Joe Potter wasted no more time, but set about earning his livelihood in as cheery a fashion as if the depression in the fruit market had brought him great gains instead of dire failure.

Before the night had come he was richer by forty cents, through having carried to their several destinations, a satchel for a gentleman, a basket containing a kitten for a lady, and a message for one of the employees at the station.

"Business is boomin' right along. At this rate I guess I can afford to stand one of Plums's bowls of stew," he said to himself, in a tone of satisfaction, and was about to seek other employment when his name was called from a shop on the opposite side of the street.

Turning quickly, he saw a boy with whom he had had slight acquaintance while in the fruit business, who stood in the door of the shop, and said, as Joe crossed the street:

"I'm workin' here now. It's a good deal more tony than down on West Street. You ought'er move your stand up this way somewhere."

"I haven't got any to move," Joe replied, and then explained why he was no longer connected with the business.

The young clerk did not appear particularly surprised by the information.

"I thought that's 'bout the way it would turn out, when I heard you hired Sim to help you. He's got the business, an' you've got the shake."

"Sim was square with me," Joe replied, stoutly.

"Well, I'm glad you think so, for you're the only one he ever acted square with, an' it wouldn't astonish me a bit to know he'd done you up."

Joe was a boy who would not willingly listen to evil words against one he called a friend, and was about to begin a wordy war in Sim's behalf, when his friend's employer put an end to the conversation by demanding that the clerk "get in and attend to business."

"I won't believe Sim ever did a thing crooked to me," Joe said, recrossing the street and taking up his station where he could have a full view of those who came from the building. "He saved his money while I was losin' mine, an' that's all there is to it. It seems like as if everybody wanted to jump on him 'cause he had sense enough to do jest what he has done."

This was not the first time Master Potter had heard such an accusation against his late clerk, and, while he would not believe Sim had been dishonest, the suggestion so troubled him that he had some difficulty in banishing the matter from his mind.

As the passengers from the incoming train appeared, he had other affairs than Sim's possible dishonesty to think about, as he did his best to attract the attention of those whom he thought might prove to be patrons.

In this manner, but yet without earning any more money, the remainder of the afternoon was passed, and when one by one the electric lights began to appear, telling that the day had come to a close, he decided it was time to seek out Master Plummer.

Now the thought of that bowl of stew for five cents was particularly pleasing, and he had made up his mind to indulge in such a hearty meal, when a little tot of a girl, who could not have been more than three years old, came out from among the throng of pedestrians and stood looking up into Joe's face.

"Well, say, but you are a dandy!" Master Potter exclaimed, in genuine admiration, as he surveyed the tiny figure, allowing his eyes to dwell almost lovingly upon the sweet, baby face. "You are a dandy, an' no mistake; but them as owns you must be crazy to let sich a mite of a thing snoop 'round here alone."

The child came nearer, and Joe stooped down to look at her more closely, for she was the most dainty little maid he had ever seen.

"I'd ask you to speak to me if I was any ways fit," he said, holding out a not over-cleanly hand.

The little maid must have judged the boy by his face rather than his apparel, for hardly had he spoken when she came boldly towards him and laid her tiny hand on his cheek with a caressing movement that captivated Joe immediately.

"Talk about daisies! Why, you're a corker! You look jest like a pink an' blue image I've seen in the shop windows. What's your name?"

"Essie," the little lady replied, and added what may have been words; but might equally well be Greek so far as Joe was concerned.

"What's that you say? I didn't jest catch on."

Miss Essie cooed at him once more, and Joe winked and blinked, trying most earnestly to understand what she said; but all to no purpose.

Then he stood erect, fearing lest the little maid's parents should appear and reprove him for having dared to speak to her; but the moments passed and no one came to claim the child.

It was evident Essie had not been accustomed to neglect, for when Joe ceased speaking, she put a tiny little hand in his and told him in her childish dialect what may have been a very interesting story.

Joe looked at the pink hand, and then at his own soiled palm.

"I'd give a nickel if I was a little bit cleaner! It seems like it was wicked to hold her hand while mine is so dirty. She takes the shine off of anything I ever saw before. Say, Essie, where's your mamma?"