A wonderful change came over Mike Flynn. Until he met Rodney he seemed quite destitute of ambition. The ragged and dirty suit which he wore as bootblack were the best he had. His face and hands generally bore the marks of his business, and as long as he made enough to buy three meals a day, two taken at the Lodging House, with something over for lodging, and an occasional visit to a cheap theater, he was satisfied.
He was fifteen, and had never given a thought to what he would do when he was older. But after meeting Rodney, and especially after taking a room with him, he looked at life with different eyes.
He began to understand that his business, though honorable because honest, was not a desirable one. He felt, too, that he ought to change it out of regard for Rodney, who was now his close companion.
"If I had ten dollars ahead," he said one day, "I'd give up blackin' boots.""What else would you do?""I'd be a telegraph boy. That's more respectable than blackin'
boots, and it 'ould be cleaner."
"That is true. Do you need money to join?"
"I would get paid once in two weeks, and I'd have to live till I got my first salary.""I guess I can see you through, Mike.""No; you need all your money, Rodney. I'll wait and see if Ican't save it myself."This, however, would have taken a long time, if Mike had not been favored by circumstances. He was standing near the ladies'
entrance to the Astor House one day, when casting his eyes downward he espied a neat pocketbook of Russia leather.
He picked it up, and from the feeling judged that it must be well filled.
Now I must admit that it did occur to Mike that he could divert to his own use the contents without detection, as no one had seen him pick it up. But Mike was by instinct an honest boy, and he decided that this would not be right. He thrust it into his pocket, however, as he had no objection to receiving a reward if one was offered.
While he was standing near the entrance, a tall lady, dressed in brown silk and wearing glasses, walked up from the direction of Broadway. She began to peer about like one who was looking for something.
"I guess its hers," thought Mike.
"Are you looking for anything, ma'am?" he asked.
She turned and glanced at Mike.
"I think I must have dropped my pocketbook," she said. "I had it in my hand when I left the hotel, but I had something on my mind and I think I must have dropped it without noticing.
Won't you help me look for it, for I am short sighted?""Is this it?" asked Mike, producing the pocketbook.
"Oh yes!" exclaimed the lady joyfully. "Where did you find it?""Just here," answered Mike, indicating a place on the sidewalk.
"I suppose there is a good deal of money in it?" said Mike, with pardonable curiosity.
"Then you didn't open it?"
"No, ma'am, I didn't have a chance. I just found it.""There may be forty or fifty dollars, but it isn't on that account I should have regretted losing it. It contained a receipt for a thousand dollars which I am to use in a law suit.
That is very important for it will defeat a dishonest claim for money that I have already paid.""Then I'm glad I found it.""You are an honest boy. You seem to be a poor boy also.""That's true, ma'am. If I was rich I wouldn't black boots for a livin'.""Dear me, you are one of the young street Arabs I've read about,"and the lady looked curiously at Mike through her glasses.
"I expect I am."
"And I suppose you haven't much money."
"My bank account is very low, ma'am."
"I've read a book about a boy named `Ragged ****.' I think he was a bootblack, too. Do you know him?""He's my cousin, ma'am," answered Mike promptly.
It will be observed that I don't represent Mike as possessed of all the virtues.
"Dear me, how interesting. I bought the book for my little nephew.
Now I can tell him I have seen `Ragged ****'s' cousin. Where is **** now?""He's reformed, ma'am.""Reformed?"
