H. I’m afraid your money’s gone past recovery, but if you want to stay in the city, there’s a friend of mine wants a good, strong fellow in a grocery store. He will give you two dollars a day.
J. (drying his tears). Well, that’s pooty good. It’s a good deal more’n I kin make in the country. I’ll take it. (Enter boy, R., with a note.)
H. (opening it hastily). Young man, here is good news. The police, having some suspicions of Jenkins, arrested him as he was on the point of leaving the city for New York, and he is now in custody. You will probably recover your money.
J. (executing a double shuffle in his delight). O crackey! my money safe. Now I shan’t be ashamed to write home. You won’t forget about that grocery place?
H. No, I will see my friend to-day, and I have no doubt he will take you. By the way, where are you boarding?
J. At the Blank House.
H. The board is pretty high there.
J. My room is high, anyway, in the fifth story but they charge me only three dollars a week.
H. Three dollars a day, you should say.
J. By gracious, you don’t mean it!