Slow and Sure: The Story of Paul Hoffman the Young Street-Merchant

  CHAPTER IV.

  THE POLICEMAN'S HOME.

  It was not till later in the evening that Mr. Norton came in. He hadbeen on duty all day, and to-night he was free. Though one of theconstituted guardians of the public peace, he was by no means fierceor formidable at home, especially after he had doffed his uniform, andput on an old coat.

  "Edward," said his wife, "this is Paul's mother, who was burned outto-day. So I have asked her to stay here till she can find a place ofher own."

  "That is right," said the policeman. "Mrs. Hoffman, I am glad to seeyou. Paul has been here before. He is one of Sam's friends."

  "Paul likes to keep in with father," said Sam slyly, "considering heis on the police."

  "If he is to be known by the company he keeps," said Mr. Norton, "hemight have to steer clear of you."

  Here I may explain why Sam was a newsboy, though his father was inreceipt of a salary as a policeman. He attended school regularly, andonly spent about three hours daily in selling papers, but this gavehim two or three dollars a week, more than enough to buy his clothes.The balance he was allowed to deposit in his own name at asavings-bank. Thus he was accumulating a small fund of money, which byand by might be of essential use to him.

  The group that gathered around the supper-table was a lively one,although half the party had been burned out. But Paul knew he was in aposition to provide a new home for his mother, and thus was savedanxiety for the future.

  "You have very pleasant rooms, Mrs. Norton," said Mrs. Hoffman.

  "Yes, we have as good as we can afford. Twenty dollars a month is agood deal for us to pay, but then we are comfortable, and that makesus work more cheerfully."

  "How do you like being a policeman, Mr. Norton?" asked Paul.

  "I don't like it much, but it pays as well as anything I can get."

  "I sometimes feel anxious about him," said Mrs. Norton. "He is liableto be attacked by ruffians at any time. The day he came home with hisface covered with blood, I was frightened then, I can tell you."

  "How did it happen?"

  "I was called in to arrest a man who was beating his wife," said thepoliceman. "He was raging with drink at the time. He seized one of hiswife's flatirons and threw it at me. It was a stunner. However, Imanaged to arrest him, and had the satisfaction of knowing that hewould be kept in confinement for a few months. I have to deal withsome tough customers. A policeman down in this part of the city has totake his life in his hand. He never knows when he's going to have astormy time."

  "I wish my husband were in some other business," said Mrs. Norton.

  "There are plenty of men that would like my position," said herhusband. "It's sure pay, and just as good in dull times as in good.Besides, some people think it's easy work, just walking around allday. They'd better try it."

  "There's one part Mr. Norton likes," said his wife slyly. "It'sshowing ladies across the street."

  "I don't know about that," rejoined the policeman. "It gets rathermonotonous crossing the street continually, and there's some danger init too. Poor Morgan was run over only three months ago, and injured somuch that he's been obliged to leave the force. Then some of theladies get frightened when they're halfway over, and make a scene. Iremember one old woman, who let go my arm, and ran screaming in amongthe carriages, and it was a miracle that she didn't get run over. Ifshe had clung to me, she'd have got over all right."

  "I don't think I'll be a policeman," said Sam. "I might have to takeyou up, Paul, and I shouldn't like to do that."

  "Paul isn't bad," said Jimmy, who was very apt to take a jokeseriously, and who always resented any imputation upon his brother."He never got took up in his life."

  "Then he wasn't found out, I suppose," said Sam.

  "He never did anything bad," retorted Jimmy indignantly.

  "Thank you, Jimmy," said Paul, laughing. "I'll come to you when I wanta first-class recommendation. If I never did anything bad, I supposeyou won't call that horse bad that I drew the other day."

  "It was a bad picture," said the little boy; "but people don't gettook up for making bad pictures."

  "That's lucky," said Sam, "or I shouldn't stand much chance of keepingout of the station-house. I move Jimmy gives us a specimen of hisskill. I've got a comic paper here somewhere. He can copy a pictureout of that."

  "Where is it?" asked Jimmy eagerly.

  The paper was found, and the little boy set to work with greatenthusiasm, and soon produced a copy of one of the pictures, which wasvoted excellent. By that time he was ready to go to bed. Paul and hehad to take up with a bed on the floor, but this troubled them little.They felt thankful, under the circumstances, to have so comfortable ashelter. Indeed, Jimmy troubled himself very little about the future.He had unbounded faith in Paul, to whom he looked up with as muchconfidence as he would have done to a father.

  Early the next morning Mr. Norton was obliged to enter upon his dailyduties. The poor must be stirring betimes, so they all took an earlybreakfast.

  "Mother," said Paul, "it won't be much use to look up new rooms beforethe middle of the forenoon. I think I will open my stand as usual, andreturn at ten, and then we can go out together."

  "Very well, Paul. I will help Mrs. Norton, if she will let me, tillthen."

  "There is no need of that, Mrs. Hoffman."

  "I would rather do it. I want to make some return for your kindness."

  So the two women cleared away the breakfast dishes and washed them,and then Mrs. Hoffman sewed for two hours upon a shirt which hismother had commenced for Sam. Jimmy amused himself by copying anotherpicture from the comic paper before mentioned.

  Meantime Paul got out his stock in trade, and began to be on the watchfor customers. He bought a copy of the _Herald_ of his friend Sam, andbegan to pore over the advertisements headed "FURNISHED ROOMS ANDAPARTMENTS TO LET."

  "Let me see," soliloquized Paul; "here are four elegantly furnishedrooms on Fifth avenue, only fifty dollars a week, without board. Cheapenough! But I'm afraid it would be rather too far away from mybusiness."

  "I suppose that's the only objection," said Sam slyly.

  "There might be one or two others, Sam. Suppose you pick out somethingfor me."

  "What do you say to this, Paul?" said Sam, pointing out the followingadvertisement:

  "FURNISHED NEATLY FOR HOUSEKEEPING. Front parlor, including piano,with front and back bedrooms on second floor; front basement; gas,bath, hot and cold water, stationary tubs; rent reasonable. WestTwenty-seventh street."

  "That would be very convenient, especially the piano and thestationary tubs," observed Paul. "If I decide to take the rooms, youcan come round any time and practice on the tubs."

  "Thank you, Paul, I think I'd rather try the piano."

  "I thought you might be more used to the tubs. However, that's too farup town for me."

  "Are you going to get furnished rooms?"

  "I haven't spoken to mother about it, but as we have had all ourfurniture burned up, we shall probably get furnished rooms at first."

  "Perhaps this might suit you, then," said Sam, reading from the paper:

  "TO LET--FOR HOUSEKEEPING, several nicely furnished rooms; termsmoderate. Apply at -- Bleecker street."

  "That must be near where Barry used to live."

  "Would it be too far?"

  "No, I don't think it would. It isn't far to walk from Bleeckerstreet. But it will depend a little on the terms."

  "Terms moderate," read off Sam.

  "They might call them so, even if they were high."

  "I wish there were some rooms to let in our building."

  "I shouldn't mind taking them if they were as nice as yours. How longhave you lived there?"

  "We only moved on the first day of May."

  "How much do you charge for your neckties, boy?" asked a female voice.

  Looking up, Paul beheld a tall, hard-visaged female, who had stoppedin front of his stand.

  "Twenty-five cents," answered Paul.

  "Seems to
me they're rather high," returned the would-be customer."Can't you sell me one for twenty cents?"

  "I never take less than twenty-five, madam."

  "I am looking for a nice birthday present for my nephew," said thehard-visaged lady, "but I don't want to spend too much. If you'll saytwenty cents, I'll take two."

  "I'm sorry, but I have only one price," said the young merchant.

  "I'll give you twenty-two cents."

  "I shall have to charge twenty-five."

  "I suppose I must pay it then," said the lady in a dissatisfied tone."Here, give me that blue one."

  The necktie was wrapped up, and the money reluctantly paid.

  "How would you like to be her nephew, Sam?" asked Paul, as soon as shewas out of hearing. "You might get a nice birthday present now andthen."

  "Shouldn't wonder if that twenty-five cents bust the old woman! Do youoften have customers like that?"

  "Not very often. The other day a young man, after wearing a necktiefor a week, came back, and wanted to exchange it for one of adifferent color."

  "Did you exchange it?"

  "I guess not. I told him that wasn't my style of doing business. Hegot mad, and said he'd never buy anything more of me."

  "That reminds me of a man that bought a _Tribune_ of me early in themorning, and came back after reading it through and wanted to exchangeit for a _Times._ But I must be goin', or I'll be stuck on some of mypapers."