“Yes, that’s a good idea; I will. Well, good-by, till I see you.”
“Good-by. Hurry up here,” said Dorothy, and Betty hung up the receiver.
As she picked up her box to start toward the taxicab rank, the thought occurred to her that it might be well to dispose of the box before she took the cab. Acting on this idea, she stepped out of the ferry-house and looked about her.
It was rapidly growing much warmer, and the glare on the hot paving-stones was unpleasant, but Betty determined to bestow the wholesome food on some grateful poor person before she started up-town.
“I want to find some one really worthy,” she said to herself; “it would be too bad to waste all these good things on an ungrateful wretch.”
She looked at the newsboys who were crying their papers, but it seemed impracticable to expect them to carry a large, heavy box in addition to their burden of papers. She wandered along the street until she saw a poor-looking old woman in a news-booth.
The papers and magazines were piled up tidily and the old news-vender herself sat comfortably knitting, now and then looking out over her spectacles for a possible customer.
She was certainly thrifty, Betty thought, and would be greatly pleased with a present of good food.
“I’d like to give you this,” said Betty, resting the box on a pile of morning papers; “it’s some food—nice bits of cold chicken and eggs.”
The old woman glared at her.