"No, thank you," said Walter; "I don't smoke, and I am afraid my first cigar wouldn't give me much pleasure."
"I'll be back in a few minutes. Perhaps you'd like to look over this paper while I am gone."
"Thank you," said Walter.
He took the paper,—an illustrated weekly,—and looked over the pictures with considerable interest. He had just commenced reading a story when a boy passed through the car with a basket of oranges and apples depending from his arm.
"Oranges—apples!" he called out, looking to the right and left in quest of customers.
The day was warm, and through the open window dust had blown into the car. Walter's throat felt parched, and the oranges looked tempting.
"How much are your oranges?" he inquired.
"Five cents apiece, or three for a dime," answered the boy.
"I'll take three," said Walter, reflecting that he could easily dispose of two himself, and considering that it would only be polite to offer one to his companion, whose paper he was reading, when he should return.