“But I may get a place before that time,” he thought.
At any rate, there seemed nothing else to do. So, prudently omitting to say anything about the critical state of his finances, he continued to retain his room, mentioning to Mrs. Foster that Mr. Remington had been called away on business for a few days. Not wishing to have it known that he had lost his place, he absented himself during the usual business hours, spending his time in wandering about the city in search of a situation.
It so happened, however, that there was a lull in business, and there was even less chance for him than usual. Everywhere he received the same answer. No help was wanted. In one or two cases, where he saw upon a window, “Boy Wanted,” he found himself too late.
On Saturday morning he was wandering about listlessly, dreading the bill which his landlady would render at night, when he chanced to step into a bowling-alley.
“Where’s the boy to set up the pins?” asked a young man, who had entered just before with a friend.
“He’s sick,” said the proprietor. “I must get another in his place.”
“Get one in a hurry, then, for my friend and I want a game.”
Joshua heard what was said, and it gave him an idea.
“I’ll set up the pins,” he said.
“Go ahead, then, Johnny.”