As Robert walked along he asked various questions of his young partner as to the buildings which they passed. On reaching Broadway he said: “I don’t care about riding. If you will walk along with me and carry the valise I will pay you a quarter more.” “All right. Only pay me the first quarter now,” said the boy cautiously. “Just as you like. Are you afraid I won’t pay you.” “I dunno. I was served that way once.” “How was it?” “I was carryin’ a bag--a thunderin’ big bag it was, too--for a man to this very hotel. I’d carried it about a mile; when we got there he took it and was goin’ in without payin’ me. “‘Look here, boss,’ I says, ‘you haven’t paid me.’ “‘Yes, I did,’ he says. ‘I paid you when you took the bag.’ “Then I knew he was a beat, and I made a fuss, I tell you, and follered him into the hotel. “‘What’s the matter?’ asked one of the hotel men, comin’ forrard. “‘This boy wants me to pay him twice,’ he says. “Of course, the hotel people took up for the man and kicked me out of the hotel. I didn’t blame them so much, for who’d think of a gentleman cheatin’ a poor boy?” “That was pretty hard on you,” said Robert in a tone of sympathy. “He must have been a mean man.” “Mean? I guess he was. But I got even with him, and I didn’t wait long neither.” “How was that?” “I got an egg and I laid for him. Toward night he come out, all dressed up like as if he was goin’ to the theayter. I follered him, and when I got a good chance I just hove it at him. I hit him just in his bosom, and the egg was spattered over his face and clothes. He gave a yell and then I dodged round the corner. Oh, it was rich to see how he looked! I guess he’d better have paid me.” Robert could not help laughing, and did not find it in his heart to blame the boy who had chosen this summary way to redress his grievances. “I hope,” he said, “you haven’t got any eggs with you now.” “Why, ain’t you goin’ to pay me?” “Oh, yes, I mean to pay you. I wouldn’t cheat a poor boy. I’m a poor boy myself.” His guide looked at him in surprise. “You a poor boy, with them clo’es?” he repeated. “If you was a poor boy you wouldn’t pay me for carryin’ your baggage.” “But would carry it myself?” “Yes.” “So I would, but I wanted somebody to guide me to the hotel. I am traveling for a gentleman that pays the bills.” “Oh, cricky! ain’t that jolly? Wouldn’t he like me to travel for him?” “I guess not,” said Robert, laughing. “If he should, just give a feller a chance.” “I might, if I knew your name and where you live.” “I left my cardcase at home on the pianner, along with my jewelry, but my name’s Michael Burke. The boys call me Mike. I live at the Newsboys’ Lodge, when I’m at home.” “All right, Mike; I’ll remember.” The remainder of the walk was enlivened by conversation of a similar kind. Though Mike was not much of a scholar, he was well informed on local matters, and it was upon such points that Robert wished to be posted.