The boy peeling potatoes looked up in some surprise. For a minute he was puzzled. Then his face broke into a genial smile.
"It's the fellow I met at Tipton——" he began.
"That's who—Frank Jordan."
"Who saved me from getting robbed."
"Put it that way, if you like," answered Frank. "How did you ever come here?"
"Walked, coaxed freight hands, and got some passenger lifts," explained Ned. "You know I told you I was going out of the scissors grinding and into school?"
"I know you did."
"Well, I've landed. I've saved up twenty dollars. That don't go far in tuition, so I'm working my way through school."
"Good for you," cheered Frank. "You're the kind that makes a mark in the world. Say, come up to my room. I want to have a real chummy chat with you."
"I couldn't do that just now," demurred Ned. "You see, I help in the kitchen here from six to eight in the morning, eleven to one at noon and five to seven in the evening."