"Huh! looks like ye weren't overworked just now."
"Oh, this is out of hours; we quit at six, you know."
"Strikes me ye might find somethin' better to do than foolin' with them dirty pasteboards, if 'tis out of hours;" said Mr. Wicks, pointedly.
"They are rather soiled," remarked Dick, critically examining the queen
of hearts; and then he continued, in a matter-of-fact tone, "you see
I found them back of the coal box; some fellow had thrown them away,
I guess. Lucky for me that he did."
"Lucky for you? Is that the best you can do with your time?"
"Perhaps you would suggest some more elevating amusement," smiled Dick.
"Well, why don't you read somethin'?"
The young man waved his pipe toward a lot of month-old papers and printers journals—"My dear sir, I have gone through that pile three times and have exhausted every almanac in this establishment."
"Visit some of your friends."
"Not one in the city except Udell," answered the other, "and if I had—" he glanced down at his worn clothing.