CHAPTER IX.
SCENES AT THE NEWSBOYS' LODGING HOUSE.
It will be unnecessary to give in detail the record of Ben's sales. Hesucceeded, because he was in earnest, and he was in earnest, because hisown experience in the early part of the day had revealed to him howuncomfortable it was to be without money or friends in a large city. Atseven o'clock, on counting over his money, he found that he had a dollarand twelve cents. Of this sum he had received half a dollar from thefriendly reporter, to start him in business. This left sixty-two centsas his net profits for the afternoon's work. Ben felt proud of it, forit was the first money he had ever earned. His confidence came back tohim, and he thought he saw his way clear to earning his own living.
Although the reporter had not exacted repayment, Ben determined to layaside fifty cents for that purpose. Of the remaining sixty-two, a partmust be saved as a fund for the purchase of papers the next morning.Probably thirty cents would be sufficient for this, as, after sellingout those first purchased, he would have money for a new supply. Thiswould leave him thirty-two cents to pay for his supper, lodging, andbreakfast. Ben would not have seen his way to accomplish all this for sosmall a sum, if he had not been told that at the Newsboys' Lodge theregular charge was six cents for each meal, and the same for lodging.This would make but eighteen cents, leaving him a surplus of fourteen.On inquiry, however, he ascertained that it was already past the hourfor supper at the Lodge, and therefore went into the restaurant, onFulton Street, where he ordered a cup of coffee, and a plate oftea-biscuit. These cost ten cents. Finding his appetite stillunsatisfied, he ordered another plate of biscuit, which carried up theexpense of his supper to fifteen cents. This left seventeen cents forlodging and breakfast.
After supper, he went out into the street once more, and walked aboutfor some time, until he began to feel tired, when he turned his stepstowards the Newsboys' Lodge. This institution occupied at that time thetwo upper stories of the building at the corner of Nassau and FultonStreets. On the first floor was the office of the "Daily Sun." Theentrance to the Lodge was on Fulton Street. Ben went up a steep andnarrow staircase, and kept mounting up until he reached the sixth floor.Here to the left he saw a door partially opened, through which he couldsee a considerable number of boys, whose appearance indicated that theybelonged to the class known as street boys. He pushed the door open andentered. He found himself in a spacious, but low-studded apartment,abundantly lighted by rows of windows on two sides. At the end nearestthe door was a raised platform, on which stood a small melodeon, whichwas used at the Sunday-evening meetings. There were rows of benches inthe centre of the apartment for the boys.
A stout, pleasant-looking man, who proved to be Mr. O'Connor, thesuperintendent, advanced to meet Ben, whom he at once recognized as anew-comer.
"Is this the Newsboys' Lodge?" asked Ben.
"Yes," said the superintendent; "do you wish to stop with us?"
"I should like to sleep here to-night," said Ben.
"You are quite welcome."
"How much do you charge?"
"Our charge is six cents."
"Here is the money," said Ben, drawing it from his vest-pocket.
"What is your name?"
"Benjamin."
"And your other name?"
"Brandon," answered Ben, with some hesitation.
"What do you do for a living?"
"I am selling papers."
"Well, we will assign you a bed."
"Where are the beds?" asked Ben, looking about him.
"They are on the floor below. Any of the boys will go down and show youwhen you get ready to retire."
"Can I get breakfast here in the morning?" inquired Ben.
"Certainly. We charge the same as for lodging."
Ben handed over six cents additional, and congratulated himself that hewas not as badly off as the night before, being sure of a comfortablebed, and a breakfast in the morning.
"What are those for?" he asked, pointing to a row of drawers or lockerson the sides of the apartment near the floor.
"Boys who have any extra clothing, or any articles which they value, areallowed to use them. Here they are safe, as they can be locked. We willassign you one if you wish."
"I have nothing to put away," said Ben. "I had a little bundle ofclothes; but they were stolen from me while I was lying asleep on abench in the City Hall Park."
"I suppose you don't know who took them?"
"No," said Ben; "but I think it was some of the boys that were blackingboots near me.--That boy's got one of them on," he said, suddenly, in anexcited tone, pointing out Mike, the younger of the two boys who hadappropriated his bundle. Mike had locked up his own shirt, which wasconsiderably the worse for wear, and put on Ben's, which gave him adecidedly neater appearance than before. He had thought himselfperfectly safe in doing so, not dreaming that he would be brought faceto face with the true owner in the Lodge.
"What makes you think it is yours?" asked Mr. O'Connor.
"It is cut like mine," said Ben. "Besides I remember getting a largespot of ink on one of the sleeves, which would not wash out. There itis, on the left arm."
As Ben had said, there was a faint bluish spot on the sleeve of theshirt. This made Ben's story a plausible one, though not conclusive. Thesuperintendent decided to inquire of Mike about the matter, and see whatexplanation he could give.
"Mike Rafferty," he said, in a tone of authority, "come here; I wantyou."
Mike came forward, but when he saw Ben, whom he recognized, he felt alittle taken aback. But he had not been brought up in the streets fornothing. His embarrassment was only momentary. He determined to brazenit out, and swear, if anything was said about the shirt, that it was hisown lawful property.
"I see you've got a new shirt on, Mike," said Mr. O'Connor.
"Yes, sir," said Mike.
"Where did you get it?"
"Where would I get it?" said Mike. "I bought it yesterday."
"Where did you buy it?"
"Round in Baxter Street," said Mike, confidently.
"It is a pretty good shirt for Baxter Street," remarked Mr. O'Connor."How much did you pay for it?"
"Fifty cents," answered Mike, glibly.
"This may all be true, Mike," said the superintendent; "but I am notcertain about it. This boy here says it is his shirt, and he thinks thatyou stole it from him while he was lying asleep in City Hall Parkyesterday."
"It's a lie he's tellin', sir," said Mike. "I never seed him afore."
Here seemed to be a conflict of evidence. Of the two Ben seemed the morelikely to tell the truth. Still it was possible that he might bemistaken, and Mike might be right after all.
"Have you any other proof that the shirt is yours?" asked Mr. O'Connor,turning to Ben.
"Yes," said Ben, "my name is marked on the shirt, just below the waist."
"We can settle the matter quickly then. Mike, pull out the shirt, sothat we can see it."
Mike made some objection, which was quickly overruled. The shirt, beingexamined, bore the name of "Benj. Brandon," just as Ben had said.
"The shirt is yours," said the superintendent to Ben.
"Now, Mike, what did you mean by telling me that lie? It was bad enoughto steal, without adding a lie besides."
"I bought the shirt in Baxter Street," persisted Mike, unblushingly.
"Then how do you account for his name on it?"
"Maybe he sold it to the man I bought it of."
"I didn't sell it at all," said Ben.
"Was that all you had taken?"
"No," said Ben. "There was another shirt besides."
"Do you know anything about it, Mike?"
"No, I don't," said Mike.
"I don't know whether you are telling the truth or not," said thesuperintendent; "but at any rate you must take this off, and give it tothe right owner."
"And will he pay me the fifty cents?" asked Mike.
"I don't think you bought it at all; but if you did, you can prove
it bythe man you bought it of. If you can do that, I will see that the moneyis refunded to you."
There was one strong reason for discrediting Mike's story. TheseBaxter-Street shops are often the receptacles of stolen goods. As theiridentification might bring the dealers into trouble, they are verycareful, as soon as an article comes into their possession, toobliterate all the marks of former ownership. It was hardly likely thatthey would suffer a shirt to go out of their hands so plainly marked aswas the case in the present instance. Mr. O'Connor, of course, knewthis, and accordingly had very little fear that he was doing injusticeto Mike in ordering him to make restitution to Ben.
Mike was forced, considerably against his will, to take off the newshirt, and put on his old ragged one. But the former was no longer asclean as formerly.
"Where can I get it washed?" asked Ben.
"You can wash it yourself, in the wash-room, or you can carry it to alaundry, as some of the boys do, if you are willing to pay for it."
"I think I would rather carry it to a laundry," said Ben, who doubtedstrongly his ability to wash the shirt so as to improve its appearance.The superintendent accordingly gave him the direction to one of theseestablishments.
Opposite the room which he had entered was a smaller room used by theboys as a gymnasium. Ben looked into it, and determined to use it onsome future occasion. He next went into the wash-room. Here he saw twoor three boys, stripped to the waist, engaged in washing out theirshirts. Being provided with but a single one each, they left them to dryover night while they were in bed, and could dispense with them. Benwondered how they managed about ironing them; but he soon found thatwith these amateur laundresses ironing was not considered necessary.They are put on rough-dry in the morning, and so worn until they areconsidered dirty enough for another purification.
Ben looked about him with interest. The boys were chatting in ananimated manner, detailing their experiences during the day, or"chaffing" each other in a style peculiar to themselves.
"Say, Jim," said one, "didn't I see you at the Grand Opera last night?"
"Yes, of course you did," said Jim. "I was in a private box along withthe mayor. I had a di'mond pin in the bosom of my shirt."
"Yes, I seed you through my opera-glass. What have you done with yourdi'mond pin?"
"Do you think I'd bring it here to be stole? No, I keep it in my safe,along of my other valooables."
Ben listened in amusement, and thought that Jim would have cut rather asingular figure in the mayor's box.
Several boys, who had gone barefoot, were washing their feet, that beingrequired previous to going to bed. This is necessary; otherwise theclean bed-clothes would be so soiled as to require daily washing.
The boys seemed to be having a good time, and then, though he wasunacquainted with any of them, felt that it was much pleasanter to behere, in a social atmosphere, than wandering around by himself in thedark and lonely streets. He observed one thing with surprise, that theboys refrained from profane or vulgar speech, though they were by nomeans so particular in the street during the day. This is, however, arule strictly enforced by the superintendent, and, if not complied with,the offender is denied the privilege of the Lodging House.
After a while Ben expressed a desire to go to bed, and in company withone of the boys descended to a room equally large, in the story below,where over a hundred single beds were arranged in tiers, in a mannervery similar to the berths of a steamboat. Ben was agreeably surprisedby the neat and comfortable appearance of these beds. He felt that heshould be nearly as well provided for as at home. Quickly undressinghimself, he jumped into the bed assigned him, and in a few minutes wasfast asleep.
Ben, the Luggage Boy; Or, Among the Wharves Page 9
