“Don’t talk about it. I feel the blood biling into my face only with the thought. I never was so mean before, and don’t expect to be agin. Will you take half a dozen Ledgers now, and make up? I went back to give you one. You won’t believe me, but I did—you’d gone, though. Didn’t get a wink of sleep that night, I felt so mean. ‘What if his father was in that battle?’ says I to myself. ‘What if he wanted to look over the list, and hadn’t got another copper? You’re a beast,’ said I to myself; ‘a brute beast of the meanest kind! A generous Newfoundland dog, now, would a given that boy the paper without a cent; but you—oh! get away, a kennel is too good for you!’ That was the way I pitched into myself all night long; but I got over it. Business was good, and it drove sich idees out of my head. But the sight of you here, huddled agin the wall, like two rabbits in a box, riled me up agin myself again. If you don’t want the paper, suppose we go round the corner and pitch into a pile of oysters. Sales are slack, and a feller may as well enjoy himself. Besides, I shall feel amost friendly with myself again if you’ll let me treat once. Precious nice mince-pies to be had if oysters don’t suit that little shaver, and sich peanuts.” Robert got up and took Joseph by the hand. “Yes, we will go,” he said. “My brother, here, is thinking of the literary business for himself; and I’d like to talk with some one who understands it.” “The what?” asked the newsboy, opening his mouth in vague astonishment. “What business did you say he was thinking of?” “Selling newspapers.” “That delicate little trooper, with eyes like a girl’s, and lips that tremble if you look at him. He’d never do!—never!” “But he is strong; runs like a deer, and shouts like any thing,” said Robert. The newsboy faced Joseph squarely, and examined him with keen attention. “Handsome as a picture,” he muttered; “and looks as if he could run. Just give a holler, my boy; I want to know how far a gentleman could hear you if he was shut up and shaving himself for church on Sunday morning.” Joseph stood up, half frightened to death, and gave out a dismal cry, while his face turned from crimson to white in the attempt. “Don’t be afraid, we ain’t a college faculty, we aint. There’s voice enough in the little codger’s chest, if he wasn’t too scared to let it out. Now let’s see your fist clenched—savagely, remember.” Joseph clenched his right hand into as formidable a fist as he could make of the delicate material, and held it out. “Whew!” exclaimed the newsboy, with a comical glance at the tiny fist. “Wouldn’t knock down a canary bird; but mine will—so what’s the use talking.” “It’s small, but I’m strong,” Joseph burst forth. “Ask Robert if I haven’t pummelled him splendidly. If anybody was to hurt him, now, wouldn’t I fight!”