Rupert's room, a small hall bedroom, cost him two dollars per week. It was rather large for a hall room, and was clean and well furnished, beyond the average of such rooms in that locality. The house was kept by a widow, a Mrs. Stetson, a good, hard-working woman, who deserved a better fate than the position of a lodging-house keeper.

 

Usually Rupert reached his room about eight o'clock in the evening. He left the hotel at seven, and stopped for supper on the way. Arrived at his room he generally spent an hour in reading or studying (he had undertaken to review his arithmetic, thinking[Pg 135] that some time he might obtain a situation where a good knowledge of that science might be needed).

 

He had nearly reached the house where he lodged² on the evening after the departure of Mr. Onthank from the Somerset Hotel, when his attention was drawn³ to a boy of ten with a bundle of the "Evening News" under his arm. He was shedding tears quietly. Rupert had a warm heart and was always kind to younger boys.

 

He was touched by the little fellow's evident distress⁴ and spoke⁵ to him.

 

"What is the matter, Johnny?" he asked.

 

"I can't sell my papers," answered the boy.

 

"How many have you got left?"

 

"Twelve copies."

 

"How many did you have in the first place?"

 

"Twenty."

 

"Then you have only sold eight?"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"So that you are behindhand unless you sell more. Have you a father and mother living?"

 

[Pg 136]

 

The boy answered in the affirmative.

 

"I shouldn't think they would let you go out selling papers so late."

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