"I don't go anywhere else," said Jerry, equivocally. "What's the use of going to church?"
"I thought everybody went to church," said Ben, speaking from his experience in a country village "that is, most everybody," he corrected himself, as several persons occurred to his mind who were more punctual in their attendance at the liquor saloon than the church.
"If I'd got good clothes like you have I'd go once just to see what it's like; but I'd a good sight rather go to the old Bowery Theatre."
"But you ought not to say that," said Ben, a little startled.
"Why not?"
"Because it's better to go to church than to the theatre."
"Is it?" said Jerry. "Well, you can go if you want to. I'd give more for a stunnin' old play at the Bowery than fifty churches."
Ben began to suspect that Jerry was rather loose in his ideas on the subject of religion, but did not think it best to say so, for fear of giving offence, though in all probability Jerry's sensitiveness would not have been at all disturbed by such a charge.
During the last portion of the conversation they had been standing still at the street corner.
"I'm goin' to Nassau Street," said Jerry. "If you want to go up Broadway, that's the way."