“I accept the correction,” said Fosdick.
“Of course, Dick, you’ll be on hand as soon as the bank opens.”
“In course I shall. Jim Travis’ll find he’s walked into the wrong shop.”
“The bank opens at ten o’clock, you know.”
“I’ll be there on time.”
The two boys separated.
“Good luck, Dick,” said Fosdick, as he parted from him. “It’ll all come out right, I think.”
“I hope ’twill,” said Dick.
He had recovered from his temporary depression, and made up his mind that the money would be recovered. He had no idea of allowing himself to be outwitted by Jim Travis, and enjoyed already, in anticipation, the pleasure of defeating his rascality.
It wanted two hours and a half yet to ten o’clock, and this time to Dick was too precious to be wasted. It was the time of his greatest harvest. He accordingly repaired to his usual place of business, succeeded in obtaining six customers, which yielded him sixty cents. He then went to a restaurant, and got some breakfast. It was now half-past nine, and Dick, feeling that it wouldn’t do to be late, left his box in charge of Johnny Nolan, and made his way to the bank.