“I’ll go to work and see what I can do,” said Dick, energetically.
CHAPTER IX.
A SCENE IN A THIRD AVENUE CAR
The boys had turned into Third Avenue, a long street, which, commencing just below the Cooper Institute, runs out to Harlem. A man came out of a side street, uttering at intervals a monotonous cry which sounded like “glass puddin’.”
“Glass pudding!” repeated Frank, looking in surprised wonder at Dick. “What does he mean?”
“Perhaps you’d like some,” said Dick.
“I never heard of it before.”
“Suppose you ask him what he charges for his puddin’.”
Frank looked more narrowly at the man, and soon concluded that he was a glazier.
“Oh, I understand,” he said. “He means ‘glass put in.’”
Frank’s mistake was not a singular one. The monotonous cry of these men certainly sounds more like “glass puddin’,” than the words they intend to utter.