"No, you don't smoke," put in the captain with some emphasis; "at least, you don't smoke here."
"Jus' 's yer say, o' course," replied his guest. "I don't care much 'bout it—on'y I t'ought p'r'aps 'twould be sort o' comp'ny t' yer."
"Well, it wouldn't be," said Stearns, pushing his chair a trifle farther away from the table. "And now, Major, suppose you tell me something about yourself. You say you've no home—what's the reason?"
The boy took a big gulp of water, hesitated for an instant, and then—catching the kindly expression in the captain's eye—rested his elbows upon the table, and told his story: how he never had known a father; how his mother had been sent away for a long term at the women's reformatory; and how he himself had been consigned to the fostering care of an "Institution," but had managed to evade the officer who had been sent to conduct him to it.
"I s'pose I'd oughter ha' went t' de 'Home,'" admitted Larry, as he concluded his brief and pitiful life's history; "but, hones', I couldn't stan' it t' live de way dem kids does. Dey gets dere t'ree meals a day, an' has a place t' sleep—but dat's de whole of it. An' as fer fun, why, what does dey know 'bout fun? Nothin'! Jus' youse look at 'em sometime, an' see what a peepy-looking lot dey is. Huh! dey ain't got no guts at all!" and with this inelegant summing-up of the moral effects of charity-rearing he dismissed as absurd any possibility of his subjecting himself to its tender mercies.
Captain Stearns heard the boy through, and then for a few minutes sat thoughtfully smoking. Finally he fixed his eyes upon the little gamin, and abruptly asked, "Larry, are you honest?"
"Yessir," replied the boy promptly, meeting unfalteringly the captain's glance, "Yessir, I'm dead on de square, an' if 'twasn't dat I'm tryin' t' keep clear o' de 'Home,' I'd jus' 's lives walk up t' any copper in town."
"That's business," said Stearns, "and I'm glad to hear you say so. Now, I'm going to give you some money, to keep you running until tomorrow,"—with this he drew out a handful of change,—"and if you're playing a square game with me you'll meet me tomorrow noon, at the armory. Ask for Captain Stearns, and they'll let you in. I'm not sure that I can do anything for you—I can't today, at any rate—but we can talk over the situation. Is it a go?"
"Yep, I'll be wid youse," said the boy, hesitatingly taking the money which his entertainer pushed across to him. "A quarter, an' ten's t'irty-five—an' t'ree nick'ls is a ha'f!" he went on, inspecting the tokens of the captain's munificence. "Gee-cricketty! w'at'll I do wid all de wealt'? Somebody'll be marryin' me fer me forchune, 'f I ain't careful!"
"You needn't spend it all, unless you have to," said Stearns; "and if you have any of it left, when you meet me tomorrow, I shall think all the better of you. See here," he went on, yielding to a sudden whim, and tossing over a bill as he spoke, "suppose you put on a little style, and pay for this lunch of ours!"