“I see,” said the old farmer, as Paul supposed him to be, with a responsive smile. “You’re right there, sonny. If you’re offered a little extra money, it’s all right to take it.” By this time they had reached the City Hall Park, and were crossing it. Then, as now, the Park swarmed with bootblacks of all sizes, provided with the implements of their trade. Frequently, in the rivalry which results from active competition, the little fellows are pushed aside, and the bigger and stronger boys take possession of the customers they have secured. There was a case of this sort which fell under the attention of Paul and his elderly companion. A pale, delicate looking boy of twelve was signaled by a gentleman, a rod or two from the City Hall. He hastened eagerly to secure a job, but unhappily the signal had also been seen by a bigger boy, larger, if anything, than Paul, and he, too, ran to get in ahead of the smaller boy. Without ceremony, he put out his foot and tripped little Jack, and with a triumphant laugh sped on to the expectant customer. The little boy, who had been bruised by the fall, rose crying and disappointed. “That’s mean, Tom Rafferty,” he said. “The gentleman called me.” Tom only responded by another laugh. With him, might made right, and the dominating law was the will of the stronger. “Oh, you’ll get another soon,” he said. He got down on his knees, and placed his box in position. But all was not to be as smooth sailing as he expected. Paul, with a blaze of honest indignation, had seen the outrage. He was not surprised, for he knew both boys. “Never mind, Jack,” he said. “I’ll fix it all right. “Please mind the valise a minute, sir,” he added, and rather to the surprise of Mr. Meacham, he left him standing in the park, while he darted forward, seized Tom Rafferty by the collar, pulled him over backwards, and called, “Now, Jack!” The little boy, emboldened by this unexpected help, ran up, and took Tom’s place at the foot of the customer. “I’m the boy you called, sir,” he said. “That’s true, my boy. Go ahead! Only be quick!” said the gentleman. Tom Rafferty was furious. “Don’t you know any better, you overgrown bully, than to get away little boys’ jobs?” asked Paul, indignantly. “I’ll mash yer!” roared Tom. “You mean if you can,” said the undaunted Paul. “You think you’re a gentleman, just because you’re a telegraph boy. I could be a telegraph boy myself if I wanted ter.” “Go ahead--I have no objection.” “I’ll give that little kid the worst lickin’ he ever had, soon as he gets through, see ef I don’t.” “Do it if you dare!” said Paul, his eyes flashing. “If you do, I’ll thrash you.” “You dassn’t.” “Remember what I say, Tom Rafferty. Now, Mr. Meacham, we’ll go on. I hope you’ll excuse me for keeping you waiting.” “Yes, I will, sonny. It did me good to see you pitching into that young bully. I’d like to have done it myself.”