The stare nettled Towsley, who felt strangely cross and irritable. He knew he was saucy, but he couldn’t help making a little grimace of disgust and demanding:
“Think you’ll know me next time you see me, governor?”
“I certainly hope so. That’s why I’m studying your face. Hm’m. I see you are decidedly better. Quite all right, in fact. Feeling prime, aren’t you? Ready to run away again?”
“What you mean? How did you know I ran away?”
“By your clothes. A little lad who wears velvet blouses and fine hats had no business away from his home in such a storm as we have had. Now, your people will probably have grieved themselves ill about you, and you’re to tell me your name and address at once, so I can send them word where you are. The storm is over and people are beginning to get about again. The street cars should be running by to-morrow, as usual.”
Towsley regarded the gentleman wistfully for a moment; then cried out, impatiently:
“I’ll bet the fellows got a beat on me!”
“Eh? What?”
“Have the ‘lines’ been tied up? I thought they was goin’ to be, last night.”
“Eh! What? What do you know about ‘lines,’ and ‘beats,’ and such matters?”