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“Shall I come now?” asked the child, smiling. “Well, I wouldn’t go again for a pretty,” returned Jerry. “Once is a great plenty. Besides, there isn’t any chance of our ever doing anything with this place. Anything useful, that is. I don’t know what the Chief wanted to bring us up here for. Wish we were on the job. Hate this loafing.” “Happened to be over there the other night and used my eyes,” was the usual reply of the boy..

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“Why in the world should Nils lend you his blouse?” “Oh, a cabby driver and his wife. The old woman told me once she wished she’d left me on the doorstep where she found me. But I stuck it out with them, until I was about fourteen, I reckon, and then something happened. One day a man spoke to me on State Street and asked if I didn’t want to go out in the country. He made a wonderful picture of the road on which there were no houses, the haystacks under which one could sleep. I’d never been outside of the city and it sounded great to me. He said I could go along with him and he would show me all these wonders. It was springtime and the licking I’d had the night before still smarted, so I went.” “No—no, sir,” stammered Bob, helplessly. “He wasn’t there—he’s in Las Cruces—” Then Bob told him the news that he had been saving for next Sunday. “Come along to the Quarter-house with me and feed, and then we’ll go hunt Whiskers—I mean Mr. Whitney.”.