The old man looked frightened. Paul turned in every week two dollars and a half of his wages, and old Jerry had no wish to lose so considerable a sum.
“I’ll go—I’ll go right away,” he said, hastily.
“Be sure you do. If you don’t I shall hear of it, and you won’t see me any more.”
Just then a policeman of the Broadway squad, whose business it was to pilot passengers across through the maze of vehicles, took the old man in tow, and led him carefully across the great thoroughfare.
Mr. Meacham had watched in attentive silence this interview between Paul and the old man.
“So that is your grandfather,” he said.
“I call him so,” answered Paul, slowly.
“You call him so!” repeated his companion, puzzled. “Isn’t he really your grandfather?”
“No, sir; but as I have lived with him ever since I was very small, I have got into the habit of calling him so.”