“I haven’t got no trunk,” said Julius.
“Then where do you keep your clothes?” asked Mrs. Taylor, in some surprise.
“I suspect,” said her husband, “Julius carries his clothes on his back.”
“I’ve got some in this bundle,” said our hero, displaying a paper parcel.
“You will have to buy him some, Ephraim,” said his wife. “He will need a supply of underclothes.”
“I leave that matter in your hands, my dear. You will know more about his needs than I.”
Julius followed Mrs. Taylor upstairs to a small back chamber on the second floor, which was neatly furnished, with a bedstead, table, bureau, washstand, two chairs, and adorned, moreover, by three prints cheaply framed, and hung upon the walls.
“This will be your room Julius,” said Mrs. Taylor.
To the boy, with the recollections of his street life fresh{88} in his memory, it seemed hardly credible that this sumptuous chamber, as it seemed to him, could really be his.
“Do you like it?” asked Mrs. Taylor, noticing that he remained silent.