Finally she decided² that it would be of no use to make any further applications, and went home, feeling considerably³ disheartened.

“I must find something to do,” she said to herself. “I cannot throw upon Paul the entire burden of supporting the family.”

But it was not easy to decide what to do. There are so few paths open to a woman like Mrs. Hoffman. She was not strong enough to take in washing, nor, if she had been, would Paul, who was proud for his mother, though not for himself, have consented to her doing it. She determined⁴ to think it over during the evening, and make another attempt to get work of some kind the next day.

“I won't tell Paul till to-morrow night,” she decided. “Perhaps by that time I shall have found something to do.”

All that day, the first full day in his new business, Paul sold eighteen ties. He was not as successful proportionately as the previous afternoon. Still his share of the profits amounted to a dollar and twelve cents, and he felt quite satisfied. His sales had been fifty per cent. more than George Barry's average sales, and that was doing remarkably⁵ well, considering that the business was a new one to him.

The next morning about ten o'clock, as he stood behind his stand, he saw a stout⁶ gentleman approaching from the direction of the Astor House. He remembered him as the one with whom he had accidentally come in collision when he was in pursuit of Mike Donovan. Having been invited to speak to him, he determined to do so.

“Good-morning, sir,” said Paul, politely.

“Eh? Did you speak to me?” inquired the stout gentleman.

“Yes, sir; I bade you good-morning.”

“Good-morning. I don't remember you, though. What's your name?”

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