“In Fifth Street.”
“That's near the Bowery, isn't it?”
“Yes.”
The boy shrugged his shoulders and exchanged a significant look with his mother.
Fifth Street was not a fashionable street—indeed quite the reverse, and Phil's answer showed that he was a nobody. Phil himself had begun to suspect that he was unfashionably located, but he felt that until his circumstances improved he might as well remain where he was.
But, though he lived in an unfashionable street, it could not be said that Phil, in his table manners, showed any lack of good breeding. He seemed quite at home at Mrs. Pitkin's table, and in fact acted with greater propriety than Alonzo, who was addicted to fast eating and greediness.
“Couldn't you walk home alone, Uncle Oliver?” asked Mrs. Pitkin presently.
“Yes.”
“Then it was a pity to trouble Mr. Brent to come with you.”
“It was no trouble,” responded Philip promptly, though he suspected that it was not consideration for him that prompted the remark.