[CHAPTER IV]
DISPOSSESSED
If one is tired enough such luxuries as beds and blankets may be dispensed with. Wayne and June slept more uninterruptedly that night than for many nights past. Toward morning they were conscious of the cold, for Wayne’s coat and an old gunny-sack discovered in a corner of the shed were not sufficient to more than cover their feet and legs. Sam, curled up in Wayne’s arms, doubtless fared better than the boys. When morning came they were stiff and achy and were glad enough to get up at the first signs of sunrise and move around. The want of a place to wash resulted in the discovery of a veritable haven of warmth and rest, for Wayne, peering about from the front of the shed, descried the railroad station only a few blocks down the track, and toward that they made their way. They found the waiting-room door unlocked and warmth and comfort inside. After washing up they settled themselves on a bench removed from the sight of the ticket window and fairly luxuriated in the warmth. June fell asleep again and snored so loudly that Wayne had to arouse him for fear that someone would hear him and drive them out. Wayne himself didn’t actually slumber, but he leaned back in a half-doze that was almost as restful as sleep, and Sam, restraining his desire to investigate these new surroundings, presently slept, too.
It was hunger that finally aroused them to action. The clock on the wall told them that it was almost half-past seven, and they left the waiting-room and passed out again into the chill of the March morning. But the sun was shining strongly now and there was a spring softness in the air that made June whistle gaily as they made their way back up the railroad in search of “Mister Denny’s” lunch-wagon. There they had some steaming hot coffee, and some crisp rolls and butter and, since there was still a nickel in the exchequer, three bananas which they consumed outside. To be sure, that left them penniless, but somehow that didn’t seem to matter so much this morning. There was something in the spring-like air that gave them courage and confidence. Besides, whatever happened, they had a home, such as it was, in the old shed. Presently they again set forth on their search for employment, agreeing to meet at five o’clock.
But again it was June who prospered and Wayne who returned empty-handed. June proudly displayed forty cents in dimes and nickels which he had earned in as many capacities as there were coins in his hand. Not only had he earned that forty cents, but he had dined sumptuously on a pork chop, having traded a quarter of an hour of his time and labour for that delicacy at a little restaurant. For his part, Wayne had gone dinnerless and was thoroughly discouraged. Even the tattered but still useful horse blanket which June had picked up outside a flour mill across the town could not cheer Wayne’s spirits.
“Reckon,” said June, spreading the blanket out proudly, “someone done lose that as didn’t mean to, Mas’ Wayne, ’cause it’s a powerful nice blanket, ain’ it?” Wayne listlessly agreed and June dropped it through the window which was their means of ingress and egress. “It’s goin’ to keep us fine an’ warm tonight, that little ol’ blanket is. Tomorrow I’m goin’ to find me a bed to go with it! You hungry enough to eat, Mas’ Wayne?”
Wayne shook his head. “I don’t want any supper,” he replied.
“Don’ want no supper! How come? What-all you have for your dinner, please?”
“I had enough,” answered Wayne. “You go ahead and have your supper, June.”