“You’re too good a Christian, you are, Miss Florence.”
“I wish I deserved your praise, but I can hardly lay claim to it. Now, Mr. Bolton, tell me what can I do to help Dodger?”
“I don’t see that you can do anything now, as it will be most three months before he reaches ’Frisco. You might write to him toward the time he gets there.”
“I will.”
“Direct to the post office. I think he’ll have sense enough to ask for letters.”
“I wish I could send him some money. I am afraid he will land penniless.”
“If he lands in good health you can trust him for makin’ a livin’. A New York boy, brought up as he was, isn’t goin’ to starve where there are papers to sell and errands to run. Why, he’ll light on his feet in ’Frisco, take my word for it.”
Florence felt a good deal encouraged by Tim’s words of assurance, and she went home with her heart perceptibly lightened.
But she was soon to have trials of her own, which for the time being would make her forgetful of Dodger.