“I don’t see but that you’ll have to let me pawn a few of your trinkets, mother. Whatever we’ll lack to make up the full amount I may be able to borrow from Ed Potter. If he’s got it, he’ll let me have it right off the reel.” “I’ve always had a horror for a pawnshop,” said Mrs. Hazard, with a little shudder. “It brings the realization of one’s circumstances too much to heart.” “I know, mother; but I don’t see how we can avoid patronizing the place under our present emergency. We must have the rent.” “True,” answered his mother, with a sigh; “but I won’t agree to let you go there until the last moment.” That night Jack got three dollars from his friend Ed, and at the same time told him he had got a situation in Wall Street. Potter was delighted to hear that his chum had secured such a fine job. “It’s a great sight better than printing,” he remarked. “I hear the men in our office every day say the trade is going to the dogs on account of the machines.” “How is that?” asked Jack. “Well, you see, an operator on a Mergenthaler can stack up forty thousand ems per day and upward, according to the copy and his expertness, while a hand compositor is lucky to average eight thousand. So, you see, the piece hands, as they call ’em, aren’t wanted any more.” “And that has thrown a lot of printers out of work, has it?” “Rather.” “And how do they make a living, then?” “Some of them don’t. However, there’s a relief fund for Union men that helps ’em out. Many of the old piece hands have turned to be jobbers, and some of them have got to be proofreaders. I’m getting tired of the business myself, so if you hear of something that you think I could tackle, I’m ready to make a change.” “I’ll keep my eyes open, Ed. I’d like to have you down on Wall Street with me.” “Hello, Jack Hazard!” exclaimed another boy, a mutual friend of both, named Wally Gray, joining them on the corner. “How does your head feel?” “Why, how should it feel?” asked Jack, in surprise. “I thought it looked kind of swelled,” grinned Wally. “What are you giving me?” “I s’pose you know all about it,” Wally said to Ed. “About what?” “Why, Jack, of course.” “What are you talking about?” “Hasn’t he told you what he did this morning?” “Say, Jack,” asked Ed, in a puzzled way, “what is Wally barking about?” “And you haven’t read to-night’s ‘World’ or ‘Journal’,” continued Wally, grinning. “No; I came out a little while ago to get the sporting edition, as I’m a crank on baseball.” “Then run over to the stand and buy one, and I’ll show you something that’ll surprise you. Hold on; you needn’t. Here’s a boy with a bunch of ’em.” Ed bought a paper. Wally grabbed it and presently pointed out an article the nature of which Jack knew fully, for he had bought an earlier edition of two afternoon papers for his mother and sister.