TOM, THE BOOTBLACK

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCING TOM, THE BOOTBLACK.


"How do you feel this morning, Jacob?" asked a boy of fifteen, bending
over an old man crouched in the corner of an upper room, in a poor
tenement-house, distant less than a quarter of a mile from the New York
City Hall.

"Weak, Tom," whined the old man, in reply. "I--I ain't got much
strength."

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"I--I don't know. Breakfast costs money."

"Never you mind about that, Jacob. I can earn money enough for both of
us. Come, now, you'd like some coffee and eggs, wouldn't you?"

There was a look of eager appetite in the old man's eyes as he heard
the boy speak.

"Yes," he answered, "I should like them; but we can't afford it."

"Don't you be afraid of that. I'll go and ask Mrs. Flanagan to get some
ready at once. I've earned thirty cents this morning already, Jacob,
and that'll pay for breakfast for the two of us. I think I could eat
some breakfast myself."

Jacob uttered a feeble remonstrance, but the boy did not stop to hear
it. He went down the rough staircase, and knocked at the door of the
room below. It was opened by a stout, wholesome-looking Irish woman,
who saluted the boy heartily.

"Well, Tom, and how's your grandfather this mornin'?"

"He's weak, Mrs. Flanagan; but he'll be the better for some breakfast,
and so shall I. I'll go and buy half a dozen eggs, if you'll be kind
enough to cook them, and make some coffee for us. I'll pay you for your
trouble."