Life — December 2, 1909 — page 34: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“It's an old-fashioned coin. It used to be worth —let me see—a tenth of a dollar.” “Only a tenth of a dollar,” exclaimed Joe con temputuously ; “then it isn’t worth anythin; “No. Dimes went out years ago. Where dil you get it, Joe?" “A man running for a train pulled out a two- dollar bill and give it to me for an evening paper,” Joe answered. “He told me to keep the change. This thing flew out of his pocket, too, and he was gone before I could pick it up and give it to him.”" “Grandpop,"” said one of the younger children, could people ever buy things with dimes?" ‘At this minute there came a rap on the door. “T 'spose that’s the rent man, a day ahead because to-morrow is Christmas,” said the old man fretfully. “Joc, you let him in.”? Joe opened the door and admitted, not the rent man, but a tall, well-dressed gentleman, whose shiny silk hat and long fur overcoat dazzled the humble little family. “Tam looking,”’ said the gentleman in an ingratiat- ing voice, “ for a boy who sells papers named Joc.” That's him,’* cried Benjy irrepressibly. “ Now, what would you be wanting of such a boy if you found him?"* said the old man with a warn- ing frown at Benjy “I'd like (o transact a little business with him,” closely round him, for the room was chilly, and dragged the only chair to the head of the table. “T guess we'll begin by having a business meet- ing,’’ he said, “while your grandma cuts the bread and pours the water for supper. Joe, how much have you made to-day selling papers? “Only thirteen dollars, grandpop.”” “H'm,’? said the old man. “And Annie, how much did that grand big department store give you for a whole week's work?" Four dollars." t's a shame,” cried the old man indignantly. “They say that the wages in department stores are the only things that haven't gone up in a hundred years,."" There was an anxious silence. “T guess it looks like no Christmas for us,"’ said Joe at last. “T guess not, Joe," said the old man sadly. “Times are hard; money's tight. All I've made this blessed-day is twenty-five dollars, which a lady gave me uptown for shoveling the snow off her sidewalk. I had to spend five of that for carfare to get back home again.” Again there was silence, while the old woman distributed eight slices of bread round the table and set a pitcher of water in the middle, where any one who felt disposed could drink from it. A “Grandpop,"” said Joe, after he bad eaten bis ae PE supper in two swallows, “what's this thing?” said the gentleman briskly. ‘My nephew this evening threw As he spoke he flipped a small shining disk toward his away something of great value, just carelessly dropped it on the grandfather, who examined it minutely, with a mingled ex- street, and was in too much of a hurry to pick it up. As soon pression of astonishment and pleasure. as I found out about it I came direct to the city, found some “ Well, well,"’ exclaimed the old man, “I haven't seen one _newsboys who referred me to Joe, and here I am.” of those since I was a boy. It’s a dime. “Joe doesn’t knows nothing about anything of valuc.’* “What's a dime?” said the old man earnestly.“ Do you, Joe? comicbooks.com