“Oh, to hell wit’ it, then. You keep a little behind Pat. For God’s sake don’t ast for anything, or hold out your hand, or you’ll give the whole snap away. You don’t want to even look at the people. Look down on the ground as if you was all in wit’ t’ hunger and cold, see? And don’t forget to look surprised ev’y time you get a penny.” Joe retired down the side street. Occasionally he strolled past the huddling pair on the grating, surveying them out of the corner of his eye with pride in the effect. Pennies and nickels fell at their feet. In fact they were too successful, the ring of the coins on the flagstones reached the sharp ears of the blind woman who sold matches at the door of the Fifth Avenue Theatre adjoining. She came out in a rage, furiously tapping; a fearsome figure with her big bonnet, her blue glasses, her voluminous petticoats. Lashing out with her stick, she drove the boys away with frightful curses. “Gawd! what langwidge from a woman!” said Pat, a little awestruck, when they collected their forces, down near Sixth Avenue. However, they had already taken seventy cents. Joe took the money, but laid out a part of it on a big feed of frankfurters, bolivars, and sarsaparilla on Sixth. They filled their pockets with cigarettes. They felt fine. They drifted up-town again. Later they found themselves outside a big new theatre by Fortieth street, called the Empire. They loitered on the pavement just out of reach of the carriage man, watching the four-wheelers and the hansoms trundle up and discharge their passengers. There was one or two of these here horseless carriages among them, which came drifting up to the curb as quietly as boats, the driver perched up behind, steering with a handle. From all the vehicles ladies descended, pointing a satin slipper to the ground. They wore velvet cloaks, red, green or white, and no hats, which was strange, since they were not poor women. The men wore big black capes; they had hats, tall ones, and it was the boys’ chief interest to get a vantage point where they could see the men press their hats against their hips as they walked through the lobby, and smash them flat. A remarkable sight, which caused them to laugh uproariously. The stream of arrivals at the theatre door had about ceased, when two Johnnies came along through Fortieth street, and paused, grinning at the three boys. Joe was familiar with that grin. Young fellows who fancied themselves, like to sass a street boy, and if you answered them back smart, but not smart enough to put them out of face, very often there was a dime in it, or a quarter if the fellow had an edge on. But these two were not the real thing, Joe perceived; counter-jumpers. One of them had two blue admission checks in his hand, and he said to his friend: “Let’s give ’em to the little fellers.”