He met with very fair success, selling out the twelve papers which had been bought for him, in a comparatively short time. It might have been that the fact that he was neater and better dressed operated in his favor. At any rate, though a new hand, he succeeded better than those who were older in the business. But his neat dress operated to his disadvantage in another quarter. His business rivals, who were, with scarcely an exception, dressed with no great pretensions to style or neatness, looked upon the interloper with a jealous eye. They regarded him as "stuck up," in virtue of his superior dress, and were indignant to find their sales affected by his competition. "Who's he? Ever seen him afore?" asked Tim Banks of a newsboy at his side. "No; he's a new chap." "What business has he got to come here and steal away our trade, I'd like to know?" continued Tim, eying Ben with no friendly glance. At that moment a gentleman, passing Tim, bought an "Evening Post" of Ben. It was the third paper that Ben had sold since Tim had effected a sale. This naturally increased his indignation. "He's puttin' on airs just because he's got good clo'es," said the other newsboy, who shared Tim's feelings on the subject. "Let's shove him out," suggested Tim. "All right." Tim, who was a boy of twelve, with a shock head, which looked as if it had never been combed, and a suit of clothes which bore the marks of severe usage, advanced to Ben, closely followed by his confederate, who had agreed to back him. Ben had just sold his last paper when the two approached him. He did not understand their object until Tim, swaggering up to him, said offensively, "You'd better clear out; you aint wanted here." Ben turned and faced his ragged opponent with intrepidity. "Why aint I wanted here?" he inquired, without manifesting the least symptom of alarm. Tim rather anticipated that Ben would show the white feather, and was a little surprised at his calmness. "Cause yer aint, that's why," he answered. "If you don't like my company, you can go somewhere else," said Ben. "This is _my_ place," said Tim. "You aint got no right to push in." "If it's your place, how much did you pay for it?" asked Ben. "I thought that the sidewalk was free to all." "You aint got no right to interfere with my business." "I didn't know that I had interfered with it." "Well, you have. I aint sold more'n half as many papers since you've been here." "You've got the same chance as I have," said Ben. "I didn't tell them not to buy of you." "Well, you aint wanted here, and you'd better make tracks," said Tim, who considered this the best argument of all. "Suppose I don't," said Ben. "Then I'll give you a lickin'."