It was getting late for morning papers, and there was nothing
left to do till the issue of the first edition of the afternoon
papers.
"I'll go down and see how George Barry is getting along," thought
Paul.
He crossed Broadway and soon reached the familiar stand.
"How's business, George?" he inquired.
"Fair," said Barry. "I've sold four ties."
"How do you feel?"
"I'm not so strong as I was, yet. I get tired more easily. I
don't think I shall stay in this business long."
"You don't? What will you do then?"
"I've got a chance in Philadelphia, or I shall have by the first
of the month."
"What sort of a chance?"
"Mother got a letter yesterday from a cousin of hers who has a
store on Chestnut street. He offers to take me as a clerk, and
give me ten dollars a week at first, and more after a while."
"That's a good offer. I should like to get one like it."
"I'll tell you what, Paul, you'd better buy out my stand. You
know how to sell ties, and can make money."
"There's only one objection, George."
"What's that?"
"I haven't got any capital."
"It don't need much."
"How much?"
"I'll sell out all my stock at cost price."
"How much do you think there is?"
"About twenty-five dollars' worth.
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