"We're in a big box, in a factory alley, down by de East River," replied the newsboy. "Dis is me headquarters when I ain't got no coin."
"I think—I'm not sure—but maybe I have a little money," said Dick. "I remember having some. This place is so cramped I can't get my hand in my pocket."
"Lay down an' stretch out on yer back; den ye kin," advised Jimmy. "Dat's what I have t' do. Dis place ain't hardly big enough fer two."
The other lad did so, and when he put his hand in his pocket the musical jingle of change rewarded him.
"Dat's chink, sure enough!" decided the newsboy. "Now how much is it?"
Dick pulled out a handful of coins. With practiced fingers Jimmy counted the money.
"Two dollars an' fourteen cents," he announced. "Dat ain't so bad. Where'd ye git it? What d'ye work at?"
"I don't know. I can't seem to remember. I can't remember anything but that they called me Dick."
"Dat's queer. But we kin fix dat part of it."
"What part?"