This meal in Mrs. Hoffman's household
usually came at twelve o'clock. It was a plain, frugal meal
always, but on Sunday they usually managed to have something a
little better, as they had been accustomed to do when Mr. Hoffman
was alive.
Paul was soon through.
He took his hat from the bureau, and prepared to go out.
"I'm going out to try my luck, mother," he said. "I'll see if I
can't get into something I like a little better than the
prize-package business."
"I hope you'll succeed, Paul."
"Better than I did in drawing horses, eh, Jimmy?"
"Yes, I hope so, Paul," said the little boy.
"Don't you show that horse to visitors and pretend it's yours,
Jimmy."
"No danger, Paul."
Paul went downstairs and into the street. He had no definite
plan in his head, but was ready for anything that might turn up.
He did not feel anxious, for he knew there were plenty of ways in
which he could earn something. He had never tried blacking
boots, but still he could do it in case of emergency. He had
sold papers, and succeeded fairly in that line, and knew he could
again. He had pitted himself against other boys, and the result
had been to give him a certain confidence in his own powers and
business abilities.
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