“Oh, my rule is, go as you please. Edward, drive home!”
The house occupied by Mr. Boss was a fine brown-stone dwelling on Forty-second Street. Arrived there, Mr. Crabb was shown into a spacious chamber, on the third floor, furnished with a luxury to which the poor usher was quite unaccustomed.
“Now, Hector, you can have a room to yourself, or you may share my den,” said Walter.
“I would rather share the den,” said Hector.
“That’s what I hoped. You see, we shall have ever so much to say to each other. We haven’t seen each other for over a year.”
A slight shade of gravity overspread Hector’s face. Since he had met his friend, his father had died, and he had been reduced from the heir of wealth to a penniless orphan. Of this last change Walter knew nothing, but Hector did not mean long to leave him in ignorance.
At dinner the two newcomers saw Mr. Ross, from whom they received a friendly welcome. The usher was put at his ease at once.
“I hope you’ll get along with my boy,” said the bluff city merchant. “Of one thing you may be assured, your scholarship won’t be severely taxed in educating him. Walter is a pretty good boy, but he isn’t a prodigy of learning.”
“I may be some day, father,” said Walter, “with Mr. Crabb’s help.”
“I take it Mr. Crabb isn’t able to perform miracles,” said Mr. Ross, good-humoredly. “No, Mr. Crabb, I shan’t expect too much of you. Get your pupil on moderately fast, and I shall be satisfied. I am glad, Hector, that you were able to pay Walter a visit at this time.”