“Down to the office of Barwell & Cameron, on Broad street. Do ye know 'em?”
“I know of them, and I can find somebody who does know them, so there will not be the least trouble.”
“It's a load off my mind,” said Josiah Bean, with a sigh. “Ye see, the money is comin' to my wife. She writ to 'em that I was comin' to collect an' they writ back it would be all right, only I would have to be identified. Jest as if everybody in Haydown Center don't know I'm Josiah Bean an' a piller in the Union Church down there, an' a cousin to Jedge Bean o' Lassindale.”
“Well, they have to be mighty particular when they pay out any money in the city. There are so many sharpers around.”
“I ain't no sharper.”
“To be sure you are not, and neither am I. But I once had trouble getting money.”
“Is thet so?”
“Yes. But after I proved who I was the folks were pretty well ashamed of themselves,” went on Henry Davis, smoothly.
So the talk ran on and at the end of half an hour the old farmer and the slick-looking individual were on exceedingly friendly terms. Henry Davis asked much about the old man and gathered in a good stock of information.
When Philadelphia was gained it was dark, and coming out of the big railroad station Joe at first knew not which way to turn. The noise and the crowd of people confused him.