But he evidently thought this was unattainable happiness. He did not even think of reserving from his little fund, enough to provide a similar feast on the following day—partly because he was an honest little fellow, and partly because he stood in fear of the burly woman whom he called Aunt Peggy.
"I wouldn't have Aunt Peggy know I've been here for something," he thought.
There seemed little chance of it, but, as ill luck would have it, as he was emerging from the restaurant, a boy he knew passed with a blacking-box on his shoulder.
"What have you been doin' in there?" asked Tim Roach. "Been havin' yer dinner?"
"I just got a little to eat," answered Johnny, ill at ease.
"Got any more money?"
"A little."
"Then just treat a feller, won't yer? I'll do as much for you to-morrer."
"I can't, Tim, the money isn't mine."
"You won't, you mean."