"I shall be glad of your company, Mr. Montgomery."
"You do me proud, Mr. Dunham," and the actor once more doffed his hat, and bowed low. "If you don't mind, my boy, suppose you tell me what brings you out here, so far from home? I came with a combination, as I have explained."
"I came as private secretary with a gentleman—no, a man named Kirby. He chose to charge me with stealing his pocket-book, and discharged me on the train, refusing to pay me back wages."
"Steal—with that honest face! Why, I'd trust you with my entire wealth—fifty-seven cents—and wouldn't lose a minute's sleep."
"Thank you," said Dean, smiling. "I hope I deserve your confidence."
"So it seems that we are both in very much the same plight. We must hustle for a living. I wish you were an actor."
"Why?"
"We might give a joint performance, and so pick up a few pennies. Can you play on any instrument?"
Dean drew a harmonica from his pocket and displayed it.
"I can play a little on this," he said.