He reflected that a man’s generous feelings were of little account if he had no money.
“I see you want to go in,” said the tramp. “Don’t let me keep you. I think I’ll go and make a call on John Simpson.”
“You’ll find him at home, sir. That is, he was at home twenty minutes since.”
“All right. I guess I’ll find him.”
Just as the stranger was leaving, Tom, impelled by the thought he might some time want to secure further information from this man, who appeared to have met his father in California, asked him:
“Would you be kind enough to tell me your name, sir?”
“My name! What do you want of my name?” demanded the tramp.
“Except John Simpson, who will tell me nothing, I have never before met any one who knew anything of my father’s life in California. I might wish to meet you again and ask you more questions.”
“I will take care that you have a chance to meet me some time,” said the other, after a pause. “At present I prefer not to mention my name.”
“Suppose I want to write to you?”