"Thank you. I hope we shall remain friends."
When Scott was left alone it occurred to him that he had not yet exchanged his English money, and he returned to the broker's office, where he made the exchange, receiving about fifty dollars in greenbacks.
"This is all I have to depend upon," reflected Scott. "It won't do for me to remain at the hotel much longer. My money would soon be gone."
He had ascertained that the rates at the hotel were two dollars a day, including board.
This was not a large price, but Scott felt that it was more than he could afford to pay. It was absolutely necessary that he should begin to earn something as soon as possible.
He could decide upon nothing till he had seen his mother's cousin, Ezra Little. If that gentleman should agree to take him into his store in any capacity, he felt that his anxieties would be at an end. Hence, it was desirable that he should see Mr. Little as soon as possible. He had already ascertained that his relative was in the dry-goods business on Eighth Avenue, but he felt that it would be better to call upon him at his residence on West Forty-seventh Street. Probably Mr. Little would have more leisure to talk with him there.
It was with a fast-beating heart that Scott, standing on the steps of a three-story brick house on West Forty-seventh Street, rang the bell.
The door was opened by a servant girl.
Just behind her was a boy who looked to be about Scott's age, and who listened inquisitively to what Scott had to say.
"Is Mr. Little at home?"