“Sure you will. What are you goin’ to eat?”
Then the boys began to discuss the bill of fare, and were soon enjoying their lunch as only hungry boys can.
“What time do you get through?” asked Charley.
“Five o’clock, Mr. Boise said.”
“How much wages do you get?”
“Nine dollars a week, and I’m to get ten after I’ve been there a while.”
“That’s pretty good, for a start. I’m going to strike the boss for another dollar soon. I’m worth more than ten a week to ’em. Why, there’s thousands of dollars of business goes over my ’phone every hour, and I ought to get more than ten.”
“I hope you do,” said Tom cordially. “But say, Charley, I wish you’d do me a favor.”
“What is it? Want any money? I ain’t got much, ’cause I went to the theatre twice this week.”
“No, it isn’t money. I have enough for a few days yet, until I get paid. But I wish you’d stop at my house, on your way home, and tell my mother I have a good place. She’ll be anxious to know, and I have no way to send her word.”