"I reckon this is the last time I'll put these shutters down," thought Walter, as he brought one down on the run. He was about to drop the second, when a burly man, rather shabbily dressed, sauntered up, and asked for one of the weekly sporting papers.
"I'm thinking of going to the theatre," he said, somewhat unsteadily, and now Walter learned by a whiff of his breath that he had been drinking. "What's the best variety show in town?"
"I'll give it up," said the youth, laughingly. "I haven't been to a show since I came to Boston, and that's a number of weeks ago."
"Humph! What do you do with yourself nights?"
"I'm here up to eight or half past, and after that I either go home or to one of the public reading rooms, or to the Young Men's Christian Association Hall."
"Humph! that must be dead slow." The man lurched heavily against the counter. "What time is it now?"
"About half past eight. I haven't any watch, so I can't tell you exactly."
"I've got a watch right here," mumbled the newcomer, still leaning heavily on the counter. "Here it is. But your light is so low I can't see the hands. Turn it up."
Walter obligingly complied, and the fellow tried again to see the time, but failed. "Strike a match," he went on; "I ain't going to no theatre if it's as late as you say it is."
Walter did not like the man's manner, but not caring to enter into any dispute, he lit a match as requested, and held it down close to the timepiece, which lay in the man's open palm.