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Jack and Mike have the true Irish brogue, but Nicholas is an Italian boy, as you can tell at once when you get a full look at his face. These extra "jobs" he is always on the lookout for, -- at least, he well understands how much the extra pennies are needed at home; and I'm sure I don't know what would become of the family if it were not for little Nicholas. The poor father has long been helpless from paralysis, and I fear he will never leave his bed again. The mother tries to earn what she can, and at one time she had a fruit-stand. But there are many days when the sick man needs her constant care, and Nicholas' little sister is hardly able to look after the stand all by herself.

So they must depend upon what Nicholas can earn; and the "shines" -- notwithstanding the nice place the little fellow has, down in Brattle Street -- seldom "net" more than four dollars a week. An extra job, therefore, is well worth the trouble of rising an hour or two earlier to secure, and Nicholas knows he will have beside what poor Jack and Mike know nothing about a warm welcome when he gets back!

But the clock has struck seven, and the boys' tracks in the snow are already followed by larger and heavier ones.

"We mustn't let the city men git ahead of us!" shouts Jack, as he makes a bee line to the "big house 'round the corner."

A ring at the area bell, a smiling assent from the jolly-faced cook, and Jack and Mike begin work in good earnest.

"I say, though, didn't that steak smell bunkum, Mike?"

"Yis, and the coffee what steamed on the stove! Let's hurry up and p'raps we'll get a smack! I wonder how Nick gets along with that one little shovel of his? Let's lend him a hand if we git through first."

Jack demurs a little at Mike's last proposition, but scrapes on with dogged persistency.

"Whew! it make's a fellow's fingers ache, though! "exclaimed Mike, as he stops a moment to blow vigorously upon the purple tips. If he hadn't looked up just then he wouldn't have seen the tall beaver. But look up he did, and there was the tempting target! Quick as a flash the broom was dropped, the snowball fired, and off rolled the new beaver way across the street, on a revolving tour of exploration. And off started the repentant little Arab, the very same instant, in hot pursuit! I'm glad to say he didn't take the offered dime from unsuspecting young Harvard, for it was pure mischief nothing else that prompted this sudden episode.

All up and down the street, on either side, the Shovel Brigade are now busily at work. Yes, and all the neighboring streets, too, are alive with these animated silhouettes -- for just like shadow pictures the black figures stand out on the white background!

If you open your window and listen, the scraping shovel, the swirring brooms, and the occasional thuds of snow sound, in the crisp electric atmosphere, not unlike the chords of a distant "street band."

Here and there you will note the bright badge of some wide-awake policeman, who is on the lookout for neglected sidewalks; for although it is a wellknown regulation in our good city that, if a snowstorm comes at night, every pavement must be clear before nine o'clock the next morning, there are some sleepy households that need constant reminders. Should the snow come in the daytime it must, according to law, be removed in the space of an hour after it has stopped falling -- an excellent rule, if it were only carried out; but often the work is delayed, or so poorly done that treacherous spots are left, and many serious accidents occur in consequence.

Jack and Mike, however, have finished their "job" in the most approved style this morning. To be sure, in spite of its depth, it was a light snow -- dry, feathery, and far easier to remove than the wet, heavy snows that sometimes come; but the boys are faithful little fellows, and whether the work be light or heavy, they always do their "level best." That is why the owner of the big house was so ready to employ them this morning; he watched them from the window last time, and remembers how well they managed the troublesome drifts that blew around the corner. He is a kind-hearted man, and Jack is not doomed to disappointment this morning; the jolly-faced cook has orders to have a good hot breakfast all ready for them when the work is done; and then, besides, there is a bright silver dime waiting on the table for each of them.

Little Nicholas is just as hungry and just as deserving, but all he receives for his hard work is a nickel five cent piece! Well, that, to be sure, is better than nothing -- it will buy a loaf of bread at the baker's round the block; but why couldn't the thoughtless millionaire have opened his heavy purse a bit wider to poor little Nicholas?

The boy cannot bear to go home with this meagre sum; so, while Jack and Mike are feasting in the warm kitchen, he looks about for another "job." This time he is more fortunate; a sweet-faced old lady taps on the window to him, for she has seen his faithful labor across the way -- somebody always sees faithful labor sooner or later, -- and Nicholas' black eyes fairly dance when she offers him twenty-five cents for cleaning steps, pavement and upper balcony.