“All my evenin’s is devoted to literatoor and science,” said Dick. “Thank you all the same.”
“Where do you hang out?” inquired Travis, in choice language, addressing Fosdick.
“At Henderson’s hat and cap store, on Broadway.”
“I’ll look in upon you some time when I want a tile,” said Travis. “I suppose you sell cheaper to your friends.”
“I’ll be as reasonable as I can,” said Fosdick, not very cordially; for he did not much fancy having it supposed by his employer that such a disreputable-looking person as Travis was a friend of his.
However, Travis had no idea of showing himself at the Broadway store, and only said this by way of making conversation, and encouraging the boys to be social.
“You haven’t any of you gents seen a pearl-handled knife, have you?” he asked.
“No,” said Fosdick; “have you lost one?”
“Yes,” said Travis, with unblushing falsehood. “I left it on my bureau a day or two since. I’ve missed one or two other little matters. Bridget don’t look to me any too honest. Likely she’s got ’em.”
“What are you goin’ to do about it?” said Dick.