“Well, we somehow seemed to be attracted toward each other,” explained Dick. “I felt sorry for a man who looked so poor and needy, and when we got to talking he did ask me my name I believe.”
“Huh!” grunted Leslie, “chances are you invited him to walk along with you and get something to eat at your folks’ house. I say that because it’d be just like you. The poorer the Horners are the more they want to do things for those they think worse off than themselves.”
Dick did not take any offense at what his chum said. Indeed, he even laughed a little as though he believed it to be a compliment.
“It must be in the blood then,” he told Leslie, “because none of us can help it. My mother is always hoping that some day she may fall into a sum of money, because then she could help so many other poor people. What, not going already, Leslie?”
“I must,” replied the other who had arisen. “Give me the list of books you have, Dick. You might step outside with me,” he added in a whisper, “because I’d like to say a few words in your ear that I don’t dare get off here.”
Dick knew his chum so well that he thought nothing of this rather strange request. He went into his own small den and quickly came back bearing a slip of paper.
“There you are,” he told the other, “and I don’t believe Mr. Holwell can put a black cross against any one on the list, because they’re all splendid, thrilling, uplifting stories, and bound to do any fellow heaps of good reading them.”
He led the way to the outer air. The night was coming on though it was not fully dark. There was a suspicion of colder weather in the air, although as yet no one could call it chilly.
“Now what do you want to say to me that you didn’t care to tell indoors, Leslie?”
“Only this, Dick,” replied the other; “don’t believe all that old chap says. He may be what he claims, but I’ve got my doubts about it.”