2 As I looked out my window at the corner of Baltic and Grand, a familiar sight unfolded. An older gentleman stopped on the corner, hooking his walking cane over his left arm. He had just bought a newspaper from a street vendor and opened it to examine the day's news when a swarm of newsies, about ages 8 to 11, descended on him like an army of ants on a sugar cube. 2 Within seconds, a little girl with a tattered dress and a screeching voice had snatched the newspaper out of his hand and began shredding it furiously. Three other boys seized the newspaper vendor's stack of papers and dashed it in the mud-soaked street. Then, in a flash, they were gone, streaking down the street. The old man and the vendor stared at each other, stunned. Presently, the old man looked down and realized the little urchins had taken his cane, too.

3 “Interesting,” I murmured thoughtfully. “Took his cane. That's new.” I sat back in my office chair. The torpid summer air blew around the office, fluttering stacks of unsold newspapers. The summer of 1899 had been brutally hot so far. I took a long drink from my monogrammed silver cup of ice water.

4 “Gimme that paper!” another shriek erupted from outside. I glanced out the window. Anyone who tried to buy a newspaper during the newsies strike got two things: one, their newspaper snatched out of their hands and ripped up and, two, a swift kick in the shins.

5 My job was making sure people bought papers—and plenty of them. However, we were barely selling any. People were petrified by possible attacks from a gang of near-rabid eight-year-olds. I studied the sales figures again and was painfully reminded of what had unleashed this fury of junior-sized mob attacks.

6 We had all been in the boss's office when Schmitty had to break the news. The boss hadn't taken it well. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” he had thundered. “There are three words I never want to hear from any of you. Do you know what they are?”

7I kept silent. Next to me, Rothlisberger raised his hand tentatively. “No more potato salad?” he asked hesitantly.

8 “NO!” I thought the boss's head might explode. “Profits are down! Those are the three words I never want to hear!” He paused and looked at Rothlisberger, disgusted. “That was four words, Rothlisberger. You're fired until you learn to count.” Rothlisberger slunk out of the office. That was the boss for you. “So, our profitability has decreased exponentially, and while we could conceivably increase newspaper prices, thereby raising revenue, our customers would no doubt complain. Ideas?”

9 “Pay the newsies less,” I said simply.

10 It had seemed like a perfect idea at the time. Newsies were nothing but ragamuffins. So what if we paid them a little less? What were they going to do about it?

11 Well, apparently they could do quite a lot. The little brats had gone on strike. On strike! Refused to sell the papers as long as we paid them less! Can you believe that? In my day, children said “please” and “thank you” and didn't complain if you suddenly decided to pay them less for the same amount of work. These horrid little underlings refused to work and terrorized anyone who tried to buy newspapers from the guys we hired to replace them. Just awful.

12 I had a meeting with the boss in half an hour, and the only words I had to say to him were the three that he never wanted to hear. I looked at the reports again then wished I hadn't. Those figures just seemed to get worse every time I checked them. Just then, Schmitty stuck his head in my office. “Didja hear what happened last night? Five thousand newsies gathered in lower Manhattan—they're swearing up and down they'll make it worse for us 'til we treat 'em right.” I closed my eyes as another piercing scream came through my window. “Let go of that newspaper, lady!”

13 “Fine, then.” I said. “Fine. Go tell the little wretches that they win.” I slammed the window shut.

At the turning point of the story, which best explains why the narrator says that the newsies win?

A
The newsies' strike could totally ruin the newspaper's business.

B
The narrator hears a woman being attacked by a gang of newsies.

C
Schmitty tells the narrator that five thousand newsies met the night before.

D
The newspaper feels guilty about treating the newsies poorly.