“My boy, I see you have no overcoat. Will you consider it an insult if I offer you my old one?”
“No, sir; I would accept it, with thanks,” answered Tom, quickly.
“Then it is quite at your service. You will find it not over half worn but it never fitted me, and that is why I lay it aside.”
Tom lost no time in trying on the coat. It could not have fitted him better if it had been made for him. It was a gray mixed cloth, well made, and did not look to be even half-worn.
“I am very much obliged to you, sir,” said Tom, gratefully.
“Oh, don’t mention it! Glad it will be of service to you. Good-morning.”
“It appears to me I am in luck,” thought Tom, surveying his new overcoat complacently. “I wonder if such things often happen in New York. My visit to New York is likely to prove a success.”
At five minutes to twelve Tom reached the Astor House, and took a position on the steps.