The Cash Boy. Alger Horatio Jr.

ago.”

      “So you want the place, do you?”

      “I should like it.”

      “Do you know your way about the city?”

      “No, sir, but I could soon find out.”

      “That won’t do. I shall have plenty of applications from boys who live in the city and are familiar with the streets.”

      Frank left the store rather discomfited.

      He soon came to another store where there was a similar notice of “A Boy Wanted.” It was a dry goods store.

      “Do you live with your parents?” was asked.

      “My parents are dead,” said Frank, sadly.

      “Very sorry, but we can’t take you.”

      “Why not, sir?”

      “In case you took anything we should make your parents responsible.”

      “I shouldn’t take anything,” said Frank, indignantly.

      “You might; I can’t take you.”

      Our hero left this store a little disheartened by his second rebuff.

      He made several more fruitless applications, but did not lose courage wholly. He was gaining an appetite, however. It is not surprising therefore, that his attention was drawn to the bills of a restaurant on the opposite side of the street. He crossed over, and standing outside, began to examine them to see what was the scale of prices. While in this position he was suddenly aroused by a slap on the back.

      Turning he met the gaze of a young man of about thirty, who was smiling quite cordially.

      “Why, Frank, my boy, how are you?” he said, offering his hand.

      “Pretty well, thank you,” said our hero bewildered, for he had no recollection of the man who had called him by name.

      The other smiled a little more broadly, and thought:

      “It was a lucky guess; his name is Frank.”

      “I am delighted to hear it,” he continued. “When did you reach the city?”

      “This morning,” said the unsuspecting Frank.

      “Well, it’s queer I happened to meet you so soon, isn’t it? Going to stay long?”