“No doubt, but I’d rather see the streets of New York. As you are a friend of Chester, do me the favor to buy yourself a ticket,” and Mr. Perkins drew a two-dollar bill from his pocket and tendered it to Felix.
“I am ever so much obliged,” said Felix, effusively. “As it is time for the performance to commence, I’ll go at once, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Certainly. You don’t want to lose the beginning of the play.”
As Felix started off on a half run, Mr. Perkins said: “Do you know why I was so polite to Felix, who by all accounts isn’t your friend at all?”
“No, I was rather puzzled.”
“I wanted to get rid of him. He was probably sent here by his uncle as a spy upon us. Now he is disposed of.”
“I see you are shrewd,” said Chester, laughing.
“Yes, I’m a little foxy when there’s occasion,” rejoined Mr. Perkins. “Now, where shall we go?”
I will not undertake to describe the route followed by the two. The city was pretty much all new to the stranger from Minneapolis, and it mattered little where he went.
About ten o’clock the two witnessed from a distance a scene between a man of forty and an old, infirm man, apparently seventy years of age.