By this time the shoes were polished.
"Aint that a bully shine?" asked the boot-black, surveying his work with satisfaction.
"Yes," said Sam. "You know how to do it."
"Course I do. Now where's the stamps?"
Sam drew out ten cents, and handed to the boy.
"Now show me where I can get some dinner."
"All right. Come along!" and the boy, slinging his box over his shoulder, led the way to a small place on Chatham street. It was in a basement, and did not look over-neat; but Sam was too hungry to be particular, and the odor of the cooking was very grateful to him.
"I guess I'll get a plate o' meat, too," said the boot-black. "I aint had anything since breakfast."
They sat down side by side at a table, and Sam looked over the bill of fare. He finally ordered a plate of roast beef, for ten cents, and his companion followed his example. The plates were brought, accompanied by a triangular wedge of bread, and a small amount of mashed potato. It was not a feast for an epicure, but both Sam and his companion appeared to enjoy it.
Sam was still hungry.