“Well, well!” said Pitkin, wagging his head. “If that isn't impudence.”
“What is impudence?” asked Phil. “I did as well as I could, and that I am ready to do for another employer. But all ask me for a letter from you.”
“You won't get any!” said Pitkin abruptly.
“Where is your home?”
“I have none except in this city.”
“Where did you come from?”
“From the country.”
“Then I advise you to go back there. You may do for the country. You are out of place in the city.”
Poor Phil! Things did indeed look dark for him. Without a letter of recommendation from Mr. Pitkin it would be almost impossible for him to secure another place, and how could he maintain himself in the city? He didn't wish to sell papers or black boots, and those were about the only paths now open to him.
“I am having a rough time!” he thought, “but I will try not to get discouraged.”