Paul the Peddler; Or, The Fortunes of a Young Street Merchant by Jr. Horatio Alger (ebook reader for comics TXT) 📖

While Mike Donovan was engaged in his contest with Paul, his companion had quietly walked off with the shirt. It mattered very little to him which party conquered, as long as he carried off the spoils. His conduct in the premises was quite as unsatisfactory to Mike as it was to Paul. When Mike found himself in danger of being overpowered, he appealed to his companion for assistance, and was incensed to see him coolly disregarding the appeal, and selfishly appropriating the booty.

“The mane thafe!” he exclaimed after the fight was over, and he was compelled to retreat. “He let me be bate, and wouldn't lift his finger to help me. I'd like to put a head on him, I would.”

Just at that moment Mike felt quite as angry with his friend, Jerry McGaverty, as with his late opponent.

“The shirt's mine, fair,” he said to himself, “and I'll make Jerry give it to me.”

But Jerry had disappeared, and Mike didn't know where to look for him. In fact, he had entered a dark alleyway, and, taking the shirt from the paper in which it was wrapped, proceeded to examine his prize.

The unusual size struck him.

“By the powers,” he muttered, “it's big enough for me great-grandfather and all his children. I wouldn't like to pay for the cloth it tuck to make it. But I'll wear it, anyway.”

Jerry was not particular as to an exact fit. His nether garments were several sizes too large for him, and the shirt would complete his costume appropriately. He certainly did need a new shirt, for the one he had on was the only article of the kind he possessed, and was so far gone that its best days, if it ever had any, appeared to date back to a remote antiquity. It had been bought cheap in Baxter street, its previous history being unknown.

Jerry decided to make the change at once. The alley afforded a convenient place for making the transfer. He accordingly pulled off the ragged shirt he wore and put on the article he had purloined from Paul. The sleeves were too long, but he turned up the cuffs, and the ample body he tucked inside his pants.

“It fits me too much,” soliloquized Jerry, as he surveyed himself after the exchange. “I could let out the half of it, and have enough left for meself. Anyhow, it's clane, and it came chape enough.”

He came out of the alley, leaving his old shirt behind him. Even if it had been worth carrying away, Jerry saw no use in possessing more than one shirt. It was his habit to wear one until it was ready to drop off from him, and then get another if he could. There is a practical convenience in this arrangement, though there are also objections which will readily occur to the reader.

On the whole, though the shirt fitted him too much, as he expressed it, he regarded himself complacently.

The superabundant material gave the impression of liberal expenditure and easy circumstances, since a large shirt naturally costs more than a small one. So Jerry, as he walked along the Bowery, assumed a jaunty air, precisely such as some of my readers may when they have a new suit to display. His new shirt was quite conspicuous, since he was encumbered neither with vest nor coat.

Mike, feeling sore over his defeat, met Jerry the next morning on Chatham street. His quick eye detected the improved state of his friend's apparel, and his indignation rose, as he reflected that Jerry had pocketed the profits while the hard knocks had been his.

“Jerry!” he called out.

Jerry did not see fit to heed the call. He was sensible that Mike had something to complain of, and he was in no hurry to meet his reproaches.

“Jerry McGaverty!” called Mike, coming near.

“Oh, it's you, Mike, is it?” answered Jerry, unable longer to keep up the pretense of not hearing.

“Yes, it's me,” said Mike. “What made you leave me for last night?”

“I didn't want to interfere betwane two gintlemen,” said Jerry, with a grin. “Did you mash him, Mike?”

“No,” said Mike, sullenly, “he mashed me. Why didn't you help me?”

“I thought you was bating him, so, as I had some business to attind to, I went away.”

“You went away wid the shirt.”

“Yes, I took it by mistake. Ain't it an illigant fit?”

“It's big enough for two of you.”

“Maybe I'll grow to it in time,” said Jerry.

“And how much are you goin' to give me for my share?” demanded Mike.

“Say that ag'in,” said Jerry.

Mike repeated it.

“I thought maybe I didn't hear straight. It ain't yours at all. Didn't I take it?”

“You wouldn't have got it if I hadn't fit with Paul.”

“That ain't nothin' to me,” said Jerry. “The shirt's mine, and I'll kape it.”

Mike felt strongly tempted to “put a