But one day, after he had finished cleaning the window, and the baker was busy in the rear of the store, a customer came in, and Edward ventured to wait on her.  Dexterously he wrapped up for another the fragrant currant-buns for which his young soul—­and stomach—­so hungered!  The baker watched him, saw how quickly and smilingly he served the customer, and offered Edward an extra dollar per week if he would come in afternoons and sell behind the counter.  He immediately entered into the bargain with the understanding that, in addition to his salary of a dollar and a half per week, he should each afternoon carry home from the good things unsold a moderate something as a present to his mother.  The baker agreed, and Edward promised to come each afternoon except Saturday.

“Want to play ball, hey?” said the baker.

“Yes, I want to play ball,” replied the boy, but he was not reserving his Saturday afternoons for games, although, boy-like, that might be his preference.

Edward now took on for each Saturday morning—­when, of course, there was no school—­the delivery route of a weekly paper called the South Brooklyn Advocate.  He had offered to deliver the entire neighborhood edition of the paper for one dollar, thus increasing his earning capacity to two dollars and a half per week.

Transportation, in those days in Brooklyn, was by horse-cars, and the car-line on Smith Street nearest Edward’s home ran to Coney Island.  Just around the corner where Edward lived the cars stopped to water the horses on their long haul.  The boy noticed that the men jumped from the open cars in summer, ran into the cigar-store before which the watering-trough was placed, and got a drink of water from the ice-cooler placed near the door.  But that was not so easily possible for the women and the children, who were forced to take the long ride without a drink.  It was this that he had in mind when he reserved his Saturday afternoon to “play ball.”

Here was an opening, and Edward decided to fill it.  He bought a shining new pail, screwed three hooks on the edge from which he hung three clean shimmering glasses, and one Saturday afternoon when a car stopped the boy leaped on, tactfully asked the conductor if he did not want a drink, and then proceeded to sell his water, cooled with ice, at a cent a glass to the passengers.  A little experience showed that he exhausted a pail with every two cars, and each pail netted him thirty cents.  Of course Sunday was a most profitable day; and after going to Sunday-school in the morning, he did a further Sabbath service for the rest of the day by refreshing tired mothers and thirsty children on the Coney Island cars—­at a penny a glass!

But the profit of six dollars which Edward was now reaping in his newly found “bonanza” on Saturday and Sunday afternoons became apparent to other boys, and one Saturday the young ice-water boy found that he had a competitor; then two and soon three.  Edward immediately met the challenge; he squeezed half a dozen lemons into each pail of water, added some sugar, tripled his charge, and continued his monopoly by selling “Lemonade, three cents a glass.”  Soon more passengers were asking for lemonade than for plain drinking-water!