So Rough and Ready knit his brows in perplexing thought.
"I can't tell where we'd better go, Rose, yet," he said at last. "We'll have to look round a little, and perhaps we'll come across some good place."
"I hope it'll be some place where father won't find us," said Rose.
"Don't call him father," said the newsboy, hastily. "He isn't our father."
"No," said Rose, "I know that,—that is not our own father."
"Do you remember our own father, Rose? But of course you don't, for you were only a year old when he died."
"Tell me about father. Mother used to tell me about him sometimes."
"He was always kind and good. I remember his pleasant smile whenever he came home. Once he was pretty well off; but he failed in business, and had to give up his store, and, soon after, he died, so that mother was left destitute. Then she married Mr. Martin."
"It was for our sake, Rose. She thought he would give us a good home. But you know how it turned out. Sometimes I think mother might have been alive now, if she hadn't married him."
"Oh, I wish she was," said Rose, sighing.
"Well, Rose, we won't talk any more of Mr. Martin. He hasn't got any more to do with us. He can take care of himself, and we will take care of ourselves."
"I don't know, Rufie," said the little girl; "I'm afraid he'll do us some harm."
"Don't be afraid, Rose; I aint afraid of him, and I'll take care he don't touch you."
The little girl's apprehensions were not without good reason. They had not done with this man Martin. He was yet to cause them considerable trouble. What that trouble was will be developed in the course of the story. Our business now is to follow the course of the two orphans.
They had reached and crossed the City Hall Park, and now stood on the Broadway pavement, opposite Murray Street.
"Are we going to cross Broadway, Rufus?" asked his little sister.
"Yes, Rose. I've been thinking you would feel more comfortable to be as far away from our old room as possible. If we can get a lodging on the west side of Broadway somewhere, we shan't be so apt to meet Mr. Martin. You'd like that better, wouldn't you?"
"Now we'll cross. Keep firm hold of my hand Rose, or you'll get run over."
During the hours of daylight, except on Sunday, there is hardly a pause in the long line of vehicles of every description that make their way up and down the great central thoroughfare of the city. A quick eye and a quick step are needed to cross in safety. But the practised newsboy found no difficulty. Dodging this way and that, he led his sister safely across.