However, such
success must be a long way off, if it ever came.
He had intended to ride home, but his mind was so preoccupied
that he forgot all about it, and had got some distance on his way
before it occurred to him. Then, not feeling particularly tired,
he concluded to keep on walking, as he had commenced.
"It will save me six cents," he reflected, "and that is
something. If I am ever going to be a prosperous merchant, I
must begin to save now."
So he kept on walking. Passing the Cooper Institute, he came
into the Bowery, a broad and busy street, the humble neighbor of
Broadway, to which it is nearly parallel.
He was still engaged in earnest thought, when he felt a rude slap
on the back. Looking round, he met the malicious glance of Mike
Donovan, who probably would not have ventured on such a liberty
if he had not been accompanied by a boy a head taller than
himself, and, to judge from appearances, of about the same
character.
"What did you do that for, Mike?" demanded Paul.
"None of your business. I didn't hurt you, did I?" returned
Mike, roughly.
"No, but I don't care to be hit that way by you."
"So you're putting on airs, are you?"
"No, I don't do that," returned Paul; "but I don't care about
having anything to do with you.
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