“Thank you, you may give me both.”
“Both! Whew, you must be well fixed!” replied the young metropolitan, handing over the papers, as he regarded his new customer curiously.
“What does that mean?” asked the latter, seriously.
“You don’t know what well fixed means? You must have come from way back! Why it means—it means that you’re solid, that you’ve got the stuff, don’t you see?”
“I’m solid enough for a boy of my age, if that is the idea,” replied the lad from the country, rather sharply, as a tinge of color rose to his cheeks.
“Shucks! That ain’t the idea at all,” said the street boy, in a tone that seemed apologetic. “What I mean is that you’re a kind of boodle alderman—you’re rich. Do you see now?”
“Oh! That’s it. Well, you see, I didn’t know what you meant. I never heard those terms up in Vermont. No; I’m not rich, but on the contrary have so little money that I must commence work at once.”
“And that is why you bought two papers, so you can take in the whole business. You’ve got a big head, Vermont, any way, and would do stunnin’ on mornin’ papers.”
“Thank you. Do you mean at selling them?”
“Yes, of course. You wouldn’t give ’em away, would you?”