“No, not the nickel, that was for me. The note was for you, though, that I got the nickel to fetch--that I don’t get the nickel for fetching, though I fetched it,” added Ted Rollins dolefully. “That’s it.”
The lad brought out a folded creased slip of paper wet with his tears and grimed with contact with his fingers. He extended this to Ralph.
“For me, eh?” he inquired wonderingly.
“Yes, ‘Ralph Fairbanks,’ he said. He asked me if I knew Ralph Fairbanks, and I said you bet I did. ‘Why,’ says I, ‘he’s a regular friend of mine.’”
“That’s right, Ted,” said Ralph.
“Then he gave me the nickel and the note.”
“Who did?”
“The boy.”
“What boy?”
“The one I’m telling you about. I never saw him before. He was down near the elevator tracks where the old switch tower shanty is, you know.”