"No; and you are not to get it cashed any night until you find that apartment," said Van Dorn.
Perner nodded.
"Van and I are grateful," he assented, "but with our few wants, and our marvelous talents, coupled with my ten years' business experience—"
"But you haven't had any dinner, nor any lunch, nor breakfast," interrupted Livingstone, speaking as one who had himself fared sumptuously.
"A letter like that is worth more than a good many dinners," said Van Dorn.
"Yes," agreed Perner; "it is—to all of us."
The faces of the two older men had become reminiscent. Perhaps they were remembering—one a wife, the other a sweetheart—both memories now for a dozen years or more.
"Boys, do you recollect the dinner we had a year ago to-night?" This from Livingstone.
The others nodded. They were remembering that, too, perhaps.
"Then the bread line afterward?" said Perner. "We gave them a nickel apiece all around, and were going to give them a dollar apiece to-night. And now, instead of that—"