“Of course, it is different with me. I should have lived at home. You’ll have to run into debt.”
“I will try not to.”
“Where do you live?”
“I am staying with a friend—Mr. Conrad, an artist—just now, but I shall soon get a boarding place.”
“I live on Eighty-sixth Street—in a flat. My father is in the custom house.”
“How long has your cousin—Mr. Mullins—been in this office?”
“About five years. He’s awfully smart, cousin David is. It’s he that runs the business. Mr. Fairchild is no sort of a business man.”
Chester wondered how, under the circumstances, Mr. Mullins should not have influence enough to secure the situation of office boy for Felix.
They soon reached Bleecker Street. Chester took notice of the way in order that he might know it again. He was sharp and observing, and meant to qualify himself for his position as soon as possible.
At five o’clock the office was vacated. Chester remained to sweep up. A piece of paper on the floor attracted his attention. He picked it up and found, to his surprise, that it was James Long’s missing receipt. It was on the floor of the clothes closet, and he judged that it had dropped from the bookkeeper’s pocket.