"The Bostonian now joined in.
"'It looks as if you had been buncoed, my friend,' he said. 'It's an old dodge, this, of getting somebody to pay for your dinner, especially on holidays, and yet I can't see how anybody would pick you out as a greenhorn. I'd divide the bill with you, but really, as you know, I haven't the money.' I saw from his tone that he was thinking better of me.
"'No, I'll pay it myself. You, certainly, were not to blame. Will you go to my room with me, Mike?' I called him Mike because it seemed the best way to conciliate the man.
"'How far is it?' he asked, softening a little.
"'Two blocks.'
"'And ye'll pay if I go?'
"'Of course I will pay. Do I look like a man who would cheat you?'
"'All right, come on.'
"I bade the Bostonian good-by, and we started.
"Mike didn't speak a word on the way, nor did I. I felt like a suspected thief that a policeman was taking to the station-house; I've passed them many times in the street, and I've often wondered what was passing in the thief's mind. I knew now. I knew, too, what the Bostonian thought of me, and the Italian, and Mike.