"Here's Tremont Street," said the guide, "and that is the Parker House."
"Thank you," said Sam.
He went into the hotel, and, ascending a short staircase, found himself in the office. On one side was a writing-room, on the other a reading-room.
"It looks like a good hotel," thought Sam. "I should like it if I could afford to stay here."
Sam went into the reading-room, and saw lying on a chair a file of a New York paper. It seemed in this strange place like a familiar friend. He was reading the local news, when some one addressed him in a nasal voice: "I say, yeou, do yeou live round here?"
CHAPTER XXIII. — SAM FINDS A ROOMMATE.
Looking up, Sam's glance rested on a young man, of rustic dress and manners, which made him seem quite out of place in a fashionable hotel.
"No," answered Sam. "I am a stranger in Boston. I came from New York."