He soon returned with an orange cut up, some toast, and a cup of coffee, which he had bought in a near-by restaurant, where he had his own meal. Dick said the things tasted good, and he certainly looked better after the meal.
"Will youse be all right if I goes out t' business?" asked Jimmy, when Dick had finished. "Me private secretary is sick t'-day," he added, "an' I've got t' work meself."
"Don't worry about me," answered Dick. "I can get along well enough. I am feeling better all the while."
"All right," announced Jimmy. "I'll see ye dis noon."
Once more the plucky little newsboy started out. Business was not so good that day, and he only made a dollar and fifteen cents, but that was enough, considering that he had no room rent to pay for the present, and meals, such as he ate, were cheap.
"I wish I'd meet dat feller—let's see—what was his name?" he mused. "Crabtree?—no, dat wasn't it—Cross-patch?—no, dat ain't it needer—Crabapple?—no—Crosscrab?—dat's it. I wish I'd see him. Maybe he'd want some more information, an' he'd pay fer it."
But, though he kept a lookout for the young countryman, Jimmy did not see him as he stood on his favorite corner selling his papers.
He stopped work about six o'clock and went to the lodging-house. He found Dick able to be up and around the room, but a trifle weak on his legs. "I think I'll be able to go out to-morrow," replied the boy, in response to a question from Jimmy as to how he felt.
"Dat's good. De fresh air'll make youse feel better."
Jimmy was puzzled about what to do. He knew Dick must have come from some well-to-do home, and he suspected that he had either been kidnapped or, perhaps, had wandered away and been hurt, thus forgetting where he lived.