"So he is!" echoed Mr. Talbot in surprise.
Catching their glance, Mark smiled and bowed. He could understand their amazement, and he enjoyed it.
Mechanically Mr. Talbot returned the salutation, but Edgar closed his lips very firmly and refused to take any notice of his cousin.
"I don't understand it," he said to his father, when the cab had passed. "Doesn't it cost a good deal to ride in a cab in New York?"
"Yes. I never rode in one but once, and then I had to pay two dollars."
"And yet Mark Mason, who is little more than a beggar, can afford to ride! And last evening he was at the theater in company with a fashionable young lady. Telegraph boys must get higher pay than he said."
"Perhaps, Edgar," suggested his father with an attempt at humor, "you would like to become a telegraph boy yourself."
"I'd scorn to go into such a low business."
"Well, I won't urge you to do so."
Meanwhile Mark continued on his way in the cab. As he passed City Hall Park Tom Trotter, who had just finished shining a gentleman's boots, chanced to look towards Broadway. As he saw his friend Mark leaning back in the cab, his eyes opened wide.