When Nelson left the lunch-room he scarcely knew what he was doing. The conversation which had occurred had been an important one, but his head was in such a whirl that just now he could make little or nothing out of it.
He had no desire to sell papers,—indeed, he had no desire to do anything,—and all he did was to walk up the street and keep on walking until he was well uptown. Then he began to cross the city in the direction of Broadway.
At last he began to "cool off" a bit, and then he went over all that had been said with care. As he did this he became more and more convinced that Sam Pepper had not told him the truth concerning his parent.
"He is holding something back," he told himself. "And he has some object in doing it. He shall never make me a thief, and some day I'll force him to tell his secret."
"Hullo, Nelson! what brings you up here?"
The question was asked by a young man who carried a flat bag in his hand. The man was an agent for books, and the boy had met him many times before.
"Oh, I just came up for a walk," answered our hero. "How is business, Van Pelt?"
"Poor," answered George Van Pelt, as he set down his bag, which was heavy. "Haven't made but half a dollar so far to-day."
"That's no better than selling newspapers."
"I don't suppose it is, and you don't have to carry around such a bag as this, either. But I would have made more to-day if a customer hadn't tripped me up."