Part 7 (1/2)

”Leave it to me,” said d.i.c.k, winking.

He advanced gravely to the apple-stand, and said, ”Old lady, have you paid your taxes?”

The astonished woman opened her eyes.

”I'm a gov'ment officer,” said d.i.c.k, ”sent by the mayor to collect your taxes. I'll take it in apples just to oblige. That big red one will about pay what you're owin' to the gov'ment.”

”I don't know nothing about no taxes,” said the old woman, in bewilderment.

”Then,” said d.i.c.k, ”I'll let you off this time. Give us two of your best apples, and my friend here, the President of the Common Council, will pay you.”

Frank smiling, paid three cents apiece for the apples, and they sauntered on, d.i.c.k remarking, ”If these apples aint good, old lady, we'll return 'em, and get our money back.” This would have been rather difficult in his case, as the apple was already half consumed.

Chatham Street, where they wished to go, being on the East side, the two boys crossed the Park. This is an enclosure of about ten acres, which years ago was covered with a green sward, but is now a great thoroughfare for pedestrians and contains several important public buildings. d.i.c.k pointed out the City Hall, the Hall of Records, and the Rotunda. The former is a white building of large size, and surmounted by a cupola.

”That's where the mayor's office is,” said d.i.c.k. ”Him and me are very good friends. I once blacked his boots by partic'lar appointment. That's the way I pay my city taxes.”

CHAPTER V

CHATHAM STREET AND BROADWAY

They were soon in Chatham Street, walking between rows of ready-made clothing shops, many of which had half their stock in trade exposed on the sidewalk. The proprietors of these establishments stood at the doors, watching attentively the pa.s.sersby, extending urgent invitations to any who even glanced at the goods to enter.

”Walk in, young gentlemen,” said a stout man, at the entrance of one shop.

”No, I thank you,” replied d.i.c.k, ”as the fly said to the spider.”

”We're selling off at less than cost.”

”Of course you be. That's where you makes your money,” said d.i.c.k.

”There aint n.o.body of any enterprise that pretends to make any profit on his goods.”

The Chatham Street trader looked after our hero as if he didn't quite comprehend him; but d.i.c.k, without waiting for a reply, pa.s.sed on with his companion.

In some of the shops auctions seemed to be going on.

”I am only offered two dollars, gentlemen, for this elegant pair of doeskin pants, made of the very best of cloth. It's a frightful sacrifice. Who'll give an eighth? Thank you, sir. Only seventeen s.h.i.+llings! Why the cloth cost more by the yard!”

This speaker was standing on a little platform haranguing to three men, holding in his hand meanwhile a pair of pants very loose in the legs, and presenting a cheap Bowery look.

Frank and d.i.c.k paused before the shop door, and finally saw them knocked down to rather a verdant-looking individual at three dollars.

”Clothes seem to be pretty cheap here,” said Frank.

”Yes, but Baxter Street is the cheapest place.”

”Is it?”

”Yes. Johnny Nolan got a whole rig-out there last week, for a dollar,--coat, cap, vest, pants, and shoes. They was very good measure, too, like my best clothes that I took off to oblige you.”