<h2>CHAPTER XVII.<br/>SEARCHING FOR ROSE.</h2>
<p>If Rose passed an unhappy afternoon and evening
at the new home in Brooklyn, her brother was
scarcely less unhappy in his old home in New York.
He loved his little sister devotedly, and the thought
that she might be receiving ill-treatment troubled
him exceedingly. But there was this difference between
them: Rose was timid, and saw no other way
but to endure whatever hardships her lot imposed
upon her. Rough and Ready, on the other hand,
was bold and enterprising, and not easily discouraged.
His first thought, therefore, was to get his
sister back again. He had never been afraid of his
stepfather for himself, only for his mother, while she
lived, and afterwards for his little sister. In the
present case, he knew that Martin was irritated at
his withdrawing the little girl from him, and feared
that she would fare the worse now on this account.</p>
<p>He spent the evening with Miss Manning, who was
scarcely less troubled than himself at the loss of
Rose. The lonely seamstress had found a great solace
and comfort in the society of the little girl, and
her heart had been drawn to her. She missed her
sweet face, and the thousand questions which Rose
was in the habit of asking as they sat together
through the long day, which didn't seem half so long
now as formerly, when she was alone.</p>
<p>When Rufus entered the little room, the first object
his eyes rested upon was the little reading-book
from which Rose had been in the habit of getting her
daily lessons. "When will she read in it again?"
he thought, with a pang.</p>
<p>"She was getting along so well in her reading,"
said Miss Manning, who divined his thoughts. "It's
such a pity she should be taken away just at this
time."</p>
<p>"I'll have her back, Miss Manning, you may depend
upon it," said Rufus, energetically. "If she's
anywhere in the city I'll find her."</p>
<p>"The city is a large place, Rufus," said the seamstress,
a little despondently.</p>
<p>"That's true, but I shan't have to look all over it.
Mr. Martin isn't very likely to be found in Fifth Avenue,
unless he's better off than he used to be. He's
somewhere in the lower part of the city, on the east
side, and that's where I'll look. 'Twouldn't be much
use lookin' over the arrivals at the Astor House, or
St. Nicholas."</p>
<p>"That's true," said Miss Manning, smiling faintly.</p>
<p>There was reason in what the newsboy said; but, as
we know, he was mistaken in one point,—Mr. Martin
was not in the lower part of the city, on the east side,
but in Brooklyn, but it was only the accident of his
having found work there, which had caused him to
remove across the river.</p>
<p>"Where shall you look first?" asked Miss Manning.</p>
<p>"I shall go to Leonard Street, where we used to
live."</p>
<p>"Do you think your stepfather lives there now?"</p>
<p>"No; but perhaps I can find out there where he
does live."</p>
<p>Rufus went round to the Lodging House at the
usual time. On getting up in the morning, instead
of going to the paper offices as usual, he went round
to Leonard Street. His anxiety to gain, if possible,
some tidings about Rose would not permit him to
delay unnecessarily.</p>
<p>Just in front of his old home he saw a slatternly
looking woman, one of the inmates of the tenement
house. She recognized the newsboy at once.</p>
<p>"Where did you come from?" she asked. "I
haven't seen you for a long time."</p>
<p>"No, I'm living in another place now. Have you
seen anything of Mr. Martin, lately?"</p>
<p>"Aint you living with him now?"</p>
<p>"No, I've left him. I suppose he isn't in the old
room."</p>
<p>"No, he went away some weeks ago. The agent
was awful mad because he lost his rent."</p>
<p>"Then he hasn't been back since?"</p>
<p>"I haven't seen him. Maybe some of the rest in
the house may know where he is. Are you going to
live with him again?"</p>
<p>"No," said the newsboy; "I'd rather take care of
myself."</p>
<p>"And how's that little sister of yours?"</p>
<p>"He's carried her off. That's why I'm tryin' to find
him. If it wasn't for that I wouldn't trouble myself."</p>
<p>"You don't say so? Well, that's a pity. He isn't
fit to take care of her. I hope you'll find her."</p>
<p>"Thank you, Mrs. Simpson. I guess I'll go upstairs
and ask some of the rest."</p>
<p>Rough and Ready ascended the stairs, and called
upon some of his old acquaintances, with inquiries of
a similar character. But he got no information
likely to be of service to him. Martin had not been
seen near his old lodgings since the day when he
had disappeared, leaving his rent unpaid.</p>
<p>"Where shall I go next?" thought the newsboy,
irresolutely.</p>
<p>This was a question more easily asked than answered.
He realized that to seek for Rose in the
great city, among many thousands of houses, was
something like seeking a needle in a haystack.</p>
<p>"I'll go and get my papers," he decided, "and
while I am selling them, perhaps I may think of
where to go next. It'll be a hard job; but I'm bound
to find Rose if she's in the city."</p>
<p>That she was in the city he did not entertain a
doubt. Otherwise, he might have felt less sanguine
of ultimate success.</p>
<p>He obtained his usual supply of papers, and going
to his wonted stand began to ply his trade.</p>
<p>"You're late this morning, aint you?" asked Ben
Gibson, a boot-black, who generally stood at the corner
of Nassau Street and Printing-House Square.
"Overslept yourself, didn't you?"</p>
<p>"No," said the newsboy; "but I had an errand to
do before I began."</p>
<p>"Get paid for it?"</p>
<p>"Not unless I pay myself. It was an errand of
my own."</p>
<p>"I can't afford to work for myself," said Ben. "A
chap asked me, yesterday, why I didn't black my own
shoes. I axed him who was to pay me for doin' it.
Blackin' costs money, and I can't afford to work for
nothin'."</p>
<p>Ben's shoes certainly looked as if no blacking had
ever been permitted to soil their virgin purity. Indeed,
it is rather a remarkable circumstance that though
the boot-blacks generally have at least three-fourths
of their time unoccupied, and sometimes remain idle
for hours at a time, it never occurs to them (so far,
at least, as the writer's observation extends) to use
a little of their time and blacking in improving the
condition of their own shoes or boots, when they happen
to have any. Whether this is owing to a spirit
of economy, or to the same cause which hinders a physician
from swallowing his own pills, it is not easy to
say. The newsboys, on the contrary, occasionally
indulge in the luxury of clean shoes.</p>
<p>"Your shoes don't look as if they'd been blacked
lately," said Rough and Ready.</p>
<p>"No more they haven't. They can't stand such
rough treatment. It would be too much for their delicate
constitutions."</p>
<p>This was not improbable, since the shoes in question
appeared to be on their last legs, if such an expression
may be allowed.</p>
<p>"I like to have my shoes look neat," said Rufus.</p>
<p>"Don't you want a shine?" asked Ben, with a
professional air.</p>
<p>"Can't afford it. Maybe I will, though, if you'll
trade."</p>
<p>"As how?"</p>
<p>"Shine my shoes, and I'll give you a 'Sun.'"</p>
<p>"That aint but two cents," said Ben, dubiously.</p>
<p>"I know that; but you oughtn't to charge me more
than the wholesale price."</p>
<p>"Anything in the 'Sun' this mornin'?"</p>
<p>"Full account of a great murder out in Buffalo,"
said the newsboy, in his professional tone.</p>
<p>"Well, I don't know but I'll do it," said Ben.
"Only if a gent comes along what wants a shine,
you must let me off long enough to do the job.
I'll finish yours afterwards."</p>
<p>"All right."</p>
<p>Ben got out his brush, and, getting on his knees,
began operations.</p>
<p>"'Herald,' 'Times,' 'Tribune,' 'World!'" the
newsboy continued to cry.</p>
<p>"Seems to me, young man, you're rather particular
about your appearance for a newsboy," said a
gentleman, who came up just as Ben was giving
the finishing touch to the first shoe.</p>
<p>"Oh," said Ben, speaking for his customer, "he
only sells papers for amoosement. He's a young
chap of fortune, and is first cousin to the King of
Mulberry Street."</p>
<p>"Indeed! I think I must purchase a paper then.
You may give me the 'Herald.'"</p>
<p>"Here it is, sir."</p>
<p>"Do you also black boots for amusement?"
addressing Ben.</p>
<p>"Well," said Ben, "it may be a very amoosin'
occupation for some, but I find it rather wearin' to
the knees of my pantaloons. It sort of unfits me
for genteel society."</p>
<p>"Then why don't you select some other business?"</p>
<p>"'Cause I can't make up my mind whether I'd
rather be a lawyer or a banker. While I'm decidin'
I may as well black boots."</p>
<p>"You're an original, I see."</p>
<p>"Thank you for the compliment;" and Ben rose
from his knees, having made the newsboy's second
shoe shine like a mirror. "Now, mister, if you'd
like to have your boots shined up by a gentleman in
reduced circumstances, I'm ready for the job."</p>
<p>"Well, perhaps I may as well. So you're in
reduced circumstances, my lad?"</p>
<p>"Yes, sir; my aristocratic relatives have disowned
me since I took to blackin' boots, just like they did
Ferdinand Montressor, in the great play at the Old
Bowery, when he lost his fortun' and went to tending
bar for a livin'."</p>
<p>"I suppose Ferdinand came out right in the end,
didn't he?"</p>
<p>"Yes, sir; owing to the death of fifteen of his
nearest relations, who got blown up in a steamboat
explosion, he became the owner of Montressor
Castle, and a big pile of money besides, and lived
happy forever after."</p>
<p>"Well, my lad, perhaps you'll be lucky too."</p>
<p>"Maybe you're meanin' to give me a quarter for
blackin' your boots," said Ben, shrewdly.</p>
<p>"No, I wasn't intending to do it; but, as you're a
gentleman in reduced circumstances, I don't know
but I will."</p>
<p>"Thank you, sir," said Ben, pocketing the money
with satisfaction. "Any time you want your boots
blacked, just call on me, and I'll give you the bulliest
shine you ever saw."</p>
<p>"All right, good-morning! When you get into
your castle, I'll come and see you."</p>
<p>"Thank you, sir. I hope you'll live long enough
to do it."</p>
<p>"That's wishing me a long life, I take it," said the
gentleman, smiling.</p>
<p>"You're in luck, Ben," said the newsboy.</p>
<p>"That's so. He's what I call a gentleman."</p>
<p>"Lucky for you he isn't in reduced circumstances
like me. Here's your 'Sun.' When I get rich I'll
pay you better."</p>
<p>Ben began to spell out the news in the 'Sun,' with
some difficulty, for his education was limited, and
Rufus continued to cry his papers.</p>
<p>At the end of half an hour, happening to have his
face turned towards the corner of Nassau Street, he
made a sudden start as he saw the familiar figure of
Martin, his stepfather, just turning into the Square.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.<br/>A PARLEY WITH THE ENEMY.</h2>
<p>It has already been stated that James Martin's
motive in recovering Rose was not a feeling of
affection for her, for this he had never had, but
rather a desire to thwart Rufus in his plans. The
newsboy's refusal to work for his support had
incensed his stepfather, and Martin was a man who
was willing to take considerable trouble to gratify
his spite.</p>
<p>It was quite in accordance with this disposition of
his, that, after recovering Rose in the manner we
have seen, he was not content, until he had seen her
brother, and exulted over him. On the day succeeding,
therefore, instead of going to work, he came
over to New York, for the express purpose of witnessing
our hero's grief and chagrin at the loss of
his sister. He knew very well where to find him.</p>
<p>Rough and Ready surveyed the approach of his
stepfather with mingled anger and anxiety. He it
was that held in his power the one whom the newsboy
loved best. Rufus guessed his motive in seeking
him now, and, knowing that he intended to speak to
him, awaited his address in silence.</p>
<p>"Well, Rufus," said Mr. Martin, with a malicious
grin, "how are you this morning?"</p>
<p>"I am well," said the newsboy, shortly.</p>
<p>"I am glad to hear it," said Martin; "I'd ought to
feel glad of it, you've been such a dootiful son."</p>
<p>"I am not your son," said Rough and Ready, in a
tone which indicated that he was very glad that no
such relationship existed between them.</p>
<p>"That's lucky for me," said Martin; "I wouldn't
own such a young cub. When I have a son, I hope
he'll be more dootiful, and treat me with more gratitude."</p>
<p>"What should I be grateful for?" demanded the
newsboy, quickly.</p>
<p>"Didn't I take care of you, and give you victuals
and clothes for years?"</p>
<p>"Not that I know of," said Rufus, coolly. "I've
had to support myself, and help support you, ever
since we came to New York."</p>
<p>"So you complain of having to work, do you?
'Cause I was a poor man, and couldn't support you
in idleness, you think you're ill used."</p>
<p>"I never complained of having to work. I am
willing to work hard for myself—and Rose."</p>
<p>"How is Rose now? I hope she is well," said
Martin, with a smile of triumph.</p>
<p>"That's what I'd like to have you tell me," said
Rufus, looking steadily at Martin. "Where have
you carried my sister?"</p>
<p>"What should I know of your sister?" said Martin.
"The last I knew, you kidnapped her from my
care and protection."</p>
<p>"Your care and protection!" repeated Rough and
Ready, disdainfully. "What care did you ever take
of her? You did nothing for her support, but came
home drunk about every day. You couldn't take
care of yourself, much less any one else."</p>
<p>"Do you want a licking?" asked Martin, angrily,
approaching a little nearer.</p>
<p>Rough and Ready didn't budge an inch, for he was
not in the least afraid of his stepfather.</p>
<p>"I wouldn't advise you to try it, Mr. Martin," he
said, composedly. "I am able to take care of myself."</p>
<p>"Are you? I am happy to hear it," sneered Martin,
repressing his anger, as he thought that, after all,
he had it in his power to punish Rufus more effectually
and safely through his sister than by any
attempt at present violence. "I'm happy to hear it,
for I've relieved you of any other care. I will take
care of Rose now."</p>
<p>"Where is she?" asked Rufus, anxiously.</p>
<p>"She's safe," said Martin.</p>
<p>"Is that all you are going to tell me?"</p>
<p>"It's all you need to know. Only, if you're very
anxious to contribute to your sister's support, you
can hand me the money, and it shall go for her
board."</p>
<p>As he looked at Martin with his air of insolent
triumph, the newsboy felt that he hated him. It was
not a Christian feeling, but it was a very natural
one. This was the man who had made his mother's
life a wretched one, and hastened her death; who in
this and other ways had brought grief and trouble
upon Rose and himself, and who now seemed determined
to continue his persecutions, out of a spirit of
miserable spite and hatred. He would hardly have
been able to control his temper, but he knew that
Martin would probably wreak vengeance upon his
sister for anything he might do to provoke him, and
he resolved, poor as the chance was, to try and see
if he could not conciliate him, and induce him, if possible,
to give up Rose again to his own care.</p>
<p>"Mr. Martin," he said, "Rose will only be a
trouble and expense to you. Why won't you bring
her back? You don't care for her; but she is my
sister, and I will willingly work for her support."
"Rose must stay with me," said Martin. "If
you're so anxious to pay her expenses, you can pay
me."</p>
<p>"I want her to live with me."</p>
<p>"Sorry I couldn't accommodate you," said Martin,
"but your influence was bad on her. I can't allow
you to be together. She's been growing a great deal
wus since she was with me. I carried her yesterday
to a nice, respectable boarding-place, and the fust
thing she did was to get to fighting with another
little gal in the house."</p>
<p>"Where was that?"</p>
<p>"Maybe you'd like to have me tell you."</p>
<p>"Rose is a very sweet, peaceable little girl, and if
she got into trouble, the other girl was to blame."</p>
<p>"The other girl's a little angel, so her mother
says, and she ought to know. Rose has got a sullen,
bad temper; but I'll break her of it, see if I don't."</p>
<p>"If you ill-treat my sister, it'll be the worse for
you," said Rough and Ready, hotly.</p>
<p>"Hoity-toity, I guess I can punish my child, if I
see fit, without asking your leave."</p>
<p>"She isn't your child."</p>
<p>"I've got her in my charge, and I mean to keep
her."</p>
<p>This was unfortunately true, and Rufus chafed inwardly
that it was so. To think that his darling
little Rose should be in the power of such a coarse
brute was enough to fill him with anger and despair.
But what could he do? Was there any way in which
he could get her back? If he only knew where she
was! But of this he was entirely ignorant. Indignant
as he was, he must use conciliating means as
long as there was any chance that these would avail
anything. He thought of the money he had laid
aside, and it occurred to him that Mr. Martin might
be accessible to a bribe. He knew that his stepfather
was very poorly provided with money, unless
he had greatly improved in his habits upon his former
mode of life. At all events, he could but fail, and he
determined to make the attempt.</p>
<p>"Mr. Martin," he said, "if you'll bring my sister
back, and agree not to take her away from me again,
I'll give you ten dollars."</p>
<p>"Have you got so much money?" asked Martin,
doubtfully.</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"Where did you get it?"</p>
<p>"I earned it."</p>
<p>"Have you got any more?"</p>
<p>"A little."</p>
<p>The newsboy did not think it expedient to let his
stepfather know precisely how much he had, for he
knew his demands would rise with the knowledge.</p>
<p>"How much more?" persisted Martin.</p>
<p>"I can't exactly say."</p>
<p>"Have you got fifteen dollars?"</p>
<p>"I will try to raise it, if you will bring back my
sister."</p>
<p>Martin hesitated. Fifteen dollars was not to be
despised. This sum would enable him to live in idleness
for a time. Besides he would be relieved of the
expenses of Rose, and this would amount in time to
considerable. As he did not pretend to feel any
attachment to his stepdaughter, and didn't expect to
receive any pleasure or comfort from her society, it
certainly seemed to be a desirable arrangement. But,
on the other hand, it was pleasant to a man like Martin
to feel that he had some one in his power over
whom he could exercise control, and upon whom he
might expend his anger. Besides, he would keep
Rufus in a constant state of trouble and anxiety, and
this, too, was something. Still he did not like to
give up wholly the chance of gaining the fifteen
dollars. After a little hesitation, he said, "Have
you got the money with you?"</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"Have you any of it with you?"</p>
<p>"Only a dollar or two."</p>
<p>"That won't do."</p>
<p>"Why do you ask?"</p>
<p>"Because I should want part or the whole of it in
advance."</p>
<p>"I shouldn't be willing to pay you in advance,"
said the newsboy, whose confidence in his stepfather's
integrity was by no means large.</p>
<p>"Why not?"</p>
<p>"I'll pay you when you bring Rose. That's fair
enough."</p>
<p>"Perhaps you wouldn't have the money."</p>
<p>"Then you could carry her back again."</p>
<p>"And have all my trouble for nothing!"</p>
<p>"You won't have all your trouble for nothing. I
want Rose back, and I shall be sure to have the
money with me."</p>
<p>Mr. Martin reflected a moment. He knew that he
could trust the newsboy's word. Much as he disliked
him, he knew that if he made a promise he would
keep it, if there was a possibility of his doing so.
Fifteen dollars was quite a sum to him, for it was a
long time since he had had so much, and such were
his shiftless habits, that it would probably be a long
time before he would have it, especially if he had to
pay for the board of Rose. Again, it occurred to him
that if he should surrender Rose, and receive the
money, he might steal her again, and thus lose nothing
But then it was probable that Rufus would
guard against this by removing to a different quarter
of the city, and not permitting Rose to go out unaccompanied.</p>
<p>So there was a little conflict in his mind, and
finally he came to this decision. He would not surrender
Rose quite yet. He wanted to torment both
her and her brother a little longer. There was time
enough to make the arrangement a week hence. Perhaps
by that time the newsboy would be ready to
increase his offer.</p>
<p>"Well," said Rough and Ready, "what do you
say?"</p>
<p>"I'll think about it."</p>
<p>"You'd better decide now."</p>
<p>"No, I don't feel like it. Do you think I'm ready
to give up my little daughter's society, after having
her with me only a day?" and he smiled in a way
that provoked Rufus, as he knew it would.</p>
<p>"Will you bring her to-morrow?" asked the news
boy, who felt that he must hold his anger in check.</p>
<p>"Maybe I'll bring her in the course of a week; that
is, if she behaves herself. I must break her of some
of her faults. She needs trainin'."</p>
<p>"She's a good little girl."</p>
<p>"She's got to be better before I give her back.
Hope you won't fret about her;" and Martin walked
away, with a half laugh, as he saw the trouble which
the newsboy couldn't help showing in his face.</p>
<p>A sudden idea came to Rufus.</p>
<p>"Ben," he said, beckoning to Ben Gibson, who
had just got through with a job, "do you see that
man?"</p>
<p>"The one you've been talking with?"</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"Well, what about him?"</p>
<p>"I'll give you a dollar if you'll follow him, and
find out where he lives. Of course he mustn't know
that you are following him."</p>
<p>"Maybe he isn't going home."</p>
<p>"Never mind. Follow him if it takes you all day,
and you shall have the dollar."</p>
<p>"Maybe I'll get off the track."</p>
<p>"You're too sharp for that. You see, Ben, he's
carried off my little sister, and I want to find out
where he has put her. Just find out for me where
she is, and we'll carry her off from him."</p>
<p>"That'll be bully fun," said Ben. "I'm your man.
Just take care of my box, and I'll see what I can do."</p>
<p>Mr. Martin had turned down Spruce Street. He
kept on his way, not suspecting that there was some
one on his track.</p>
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