“Yes, it was dull; but I felt more comfortable from knowing that you were taking my place. If I get sick again I will send for you.”
“I hope you won't get sick; but if you do, I will do what I can to help you.”
So the two parted on the best of terms. Each had been of service to the other, and neither had cause to complain.
“Well,” said Paul to himself, “I am out of work again. What shall I go at next?”
It was six o'clock, and there was nothing to be done till the morrow. He went slowly homeward, revolving this subject in his mind. He knew that he need not remain idle. He could black boots, or sell newspapers, if nothing better offered, and he thought it quite possible that he might adopt the latter business, for a few days at least. He had not forgotten Mr. Preston's injunction to let him know when he got out of business; but, as the second half dozen shirts would be ready in three or four days, he preferred to wait till then, and not make a special call on Mr Preston. He had considerable independence of feeling, and didn't like to put himself in the position of one asking a favor, though he had no objection to accept one voluntarily offered.
“Well, mother,” he said, entering his humble home, “I am out of business.”
“Has George recovered, then?”
“Yes, he was at the stand to-day, but wanted me to stay with him till this evening.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry!” said Jimmy.
“Sorry that George has got well? For shame, Jimmy!”