bought for the sake of the prizes.”
“Perhaps you had better be a little more liberal with your candy, and then there may not be so much dissatisfaction where the prize is only a penny.”
“I don’t know but your are right, mother. I believe I’ll only make thirty packages with this pound, instead of fifty. Thirty’ll be all I can sell this afternoon.”
Just then the door opened, and Paul’s brother entered.
Jimmy Hoffman, or lame Jimmy, as he was often called, was a delicate-looking boy of ten, with a fair complexion and sweet face, but incurably lame, a defect which, added to his delicate constitution, was likely to interfere seriously with his success in life. But, as frequently happens, Jimmy was all the more endeared to his mother and brother by his misfortune and bodily weakness, and if either were obliged to suffer from poverty, Jimmy would be spared the suffering.
“Well, Jimmy, have you had a pleasant walk?” asked his mother.
“Yes, mother; I went down to Fulton Market. There’s a good deal to see there.”
“A good deal more than in this dull room, Jimmy.”
“It doesn’t seem dull to me, mother, while you are here. How did you make out selling your prize packages?”
“They are all sold, Jimmy, every one. I am making some more.”
“Shan’t I help you?”
“Yes, I would like to have you. Just take those envelopes, and write prize packages on every one of them.”
“All right, Paul,” and Jimmy, glad to be of use, got the pen and ink, and, gathering up the envelopes, began to inscribe them as he had been instructed.
By the time the packages were made up, dinner was ready. It was not a very luxurious repast. There was a small piece of rump steak—not more than three-quarters of a pound—a few potatoes, a loaf of bread, and a small plate of butter. That was all; but then the cloth that covered the table was neat and clean, and the knives and forks were as bright as new, and what there was tasted good.
“What have you been doing this morning, Jimmy?” asked Paul.
“I have been drawing, Paul. Here’s a picture of Friday. I copied it from ‘Robinson Crusoe.’”
He showed the picture, which was wonderfully like that in the book, for this—the gift of drawing—was Jimmy’s one talent, and he possessed it in no common degree.
“Excellent, Jimmy!” said Paul. “You’re a real genius. I shouldn’t be surprised if you’d make an artist some day.”
“I wish I might,” said Jimmy, earnestly. “There’s nothing I’d like better.”
“I’ll tell you what, Jimmy. If I do well this afternoon, I’ll buy you a drawing-book and some paper, to work on while mother and I are busy.”
“If you can afford it, Paul, I should like it so much. Some time I might earn something that way.”
“Of course you may,” said Paul, cheerfully. “I won’t forget you.”
Dinner over, Paul went out to business, and was again successful, getting rid of his thirty packages, and clearing another dollar. Half of this he invested in a drawing-book, a pencil and some drawing-paper for Jimmy. Even then he had left of his earnings for the day one dollar and eighty cents. But this success in the new business had already excited envy and competition, as he was destined to find out on the morrow.
CHAPTER III
PAUL HAS COMPETITORS
The next morning Paul took his old place in front of the post office. He set down his basket in front, and, taking one of the packages in his hand, called out in a businesslike manner, as on the day before, “Here’s your prize packages! Only five cents! Money prize in every package! Walk up, gentlemen, and try your luck!”
He met with a fair degree of success at first, managing in the course of an hour to sell ten packages. All the prizes drawn were small, with the exception of one ten-cent prize, which was drawn by a little bootblack, who exclaimed:
“That’s the way to do business, Johnny. If you’ve got any more of them ten-cent prizes, I’ll give you ten cents a piece for the lot.”
“Better buy some more and see,” said Paul.
“That don’t go down,” said the other. “Maybe there’d be only a penny.”
Nevertheless, the effect of this large prize was to influence the sale of three other packages; but as neither of these contained more than two-cent prizes, trade began to grow dull, and for ten minutes all Paul’s eloquent appeals to gentlemen to walk up and try their luck produced no effect.
At this point Paul found that there was a rival in the field.
Teddy O’Brien, who had applied for a partnership the day before, came up with a basket similar to his own, apparently filled with similar packages. He took a position about six feet distant from Paul, and began to cry out, in a shrill voice:
“Here’s your bully prize packages! Best in the market! Here’s where you get your big prizes, fifty cents in some of ‘em. Walk up boys, tumble up, and take your pick afore they’re gone. Fifty cents for five!”
“That’s a lie, Teddy,” said Paul, who saw that his rival’s attractive announcement was likely to spoil his trade.
“No, ‘tisn’t,” said Teddy. “If you don’t believe it, just buy one and see.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Paul, “I’ll exchange.”
“No,” said Teddy; “I ain’t a-goin’ to risk givin’ fifty cents for one.”
“More likely you’d get ten for one. You’re a humbug.”
“Have you really got any fifty-cent prizes?” asked a newsboy, who had sold out his morning stock of papers, and was lounging about the post office steps.
“Best way is to buy, Johnny,” said Teddy.
The boy did buy, but his prize amounted to only one cent.
“Didn’t I tell you so?” said Paul.
“Just wait a while and see,” said Teddy. “The lucky feller hasn’t come along. Here, Mike, jest buy a package!”
Mike, a boy of fifteen, produced five cents, and said, “I don’t mind if I do.”
He selected a package, and, without opening it, slipped it into his pocket.
“Why don’t you open it?” said Teddy.
“What’s the use?” said Mike. “There ain’t no fifty cents inside.”
However, he drew it out of his pocket, and opened it.
“What’s this?” he exclaimed, pulling out a piece of scrip. “Howly St. Patrick! it’s I that’s in luck, anyhow I’ve got the fifty cents!”
And he held up to view a fifty-cent scrip.
“Let me look at it,” said Paul, incredulously.
But there was no room for doubt. It was a genuine fifty cents, as Paul was compelled to admit.
“Didn’t I tell you so?” said Teddy, triumphantly. “Here’s where you get fifty-cent prizes.”
The appeal was successful. The sight of the fifty-cent prize led to a large call for packages, of which Teddy immediately sold ten, while Paul found himself completely deserted. None of the ten, however, contained over two cents. Still the possibility of drawing fifty cents kept up the courage of buyers, while Paul’s inducements were so far inferior that he found himself wholly distanced.
“Don’t you wish you’d gone pardners with me?” asked Teddy, with a triumphant grin, noticing Paul’s look of discomfiture. “You can’t do business alongside of me.”
“You can’t make any money giving such big prizes,”