“And so you thought I would ‘light out’ too,” laughed Herbert.
“Well, I didn’t know. I told you I liked your looks, but I hain’t much faith in nobody till I know what kind of stuff a feller is made of. But if he’s got any sand in him, then I’ll bet on his winning right here in New York, and he won’t have to go back home for his bread. Well, speakin’ of bread reminds me that it’s about time to eat something and I’m all fired hungry, and you look es ef ’twould do you good to get a little somethin’ warm in your stomach. Funny, ain’t it, we can’t do nothin’ without eatin’? But we can’t, so let’s eat. Business is about over, and I don’t mind leavin’ a little early, any way.”
Herbert assented gladly to this proposition, and presently Bob took him up Chatham Street to an eating house known as the “Boss Tweed Restaurant”—a restaurant the cheapness of which recommended it, five cents being the established price for a meal.
“I s’pose you hain’t made no plans for a place to sleep yet?” said the newsboy, while eating their frugal fare.
“No,” replied Herbert. “I thought I would wait and see you before making any move in that direction. You are the only one I know in the city.”
“And ’tain’t much you know about me.”
“Very true; but from your appearance I’m satisfied to trust myself with you.”
“You’re takin’ big chances ef you do,” replied Bob, happily; “but ef you want to take the resk, why we will jest look up a room and occupy it together. I kinder think I’d like the scheme. I’ve been sleepin’ at the Newsboys’ Lodging House, but I’m tired of it. What do you say?”
