“Waal, are ye goin’ to th’ show? Thought ye didn’t have no money.”
“Why, Ferd,” exclaimed Jack, recognizing his friend of the milk wagon. “I’m glad to see you,” he went on. “Have you bought your ticket yet?”
“Nope, but I’m goin’ to.”
“Wait a minute, then. I can get two, and I’ll give you one.”
“Two? How ye goin’ to git two?”
“I’ll show you.”
By this time Jack had managed to reach the window. He handed in the note, saying:
“Ike Landon, the boss canvasman, sent me with that.”
“It’s all right,” replied the ticket man, as he glanced at the piece of paper. “Here are a couple of reserved seats.”
“Say, ye’re a peach!” exclaimed Ferd admiringly, when Jack gave him one of the pasteboard slips. “How’d ye do it?”