“If this is Central Park,” said Frank, who naturally felt disappointed, “I don’t think much of it. My father’s got a large pasture that is much nicer.”
“It’ll look better some time,” said Dick. “There aint much to see now but rocks. We will take a walk over it if you want to.”
“No,” said Frank, “I’ve seen as much of it as I want to. Besides, I feel tired.”
“Then we’ll go back. We can take the Sixth Avenue cars. They will bring us out at Vesey Street just beside the Astor House.”
“All right,” said Frank. “That will be the best course. I hope,” he added, laughing, “our agreeable lady friend won’t be there. I don’t care about being accused of stealing again.”
“She was a tough one,” said Dick. “Wouldn’t she make a nice wife for a man that likes to live in hot water, and didn’t mind bein’ scalded two or three times a day?”
“Yes, I think she’d just suit him. Is that the right car, Dick?”
“Yes, jump in, and I’ll follow.”
The Sixth Avenue is lined with stores, many of them of very good appearance, and would make a very respectable principal street for a good-sized city. But it is only one of several long business streets which run up the island, and illustrate the extent and importance of the city to which they belong.
No incidents worth mentioning took place during their ride down town. In about three-quarters of an hour the boys got out of the car beside the Astor House.