“If I can do you a favor at any time I shall be glad to do so.”
“Perhaps you can. I cannot afford to live at a hotel. Can you recommend me to some respectable but modest-priced boarding-house?”
“Yes. The widow of a machinist who used to be employed in the same shop as myself keeps a few boarders. I think she would take you for six dollars a week, or five if you have a friend to room with you.”
“Can you show me the place after supper—that is, unless you are in a hurry to start for Dakota?” He added, with a smile.
“I never was in Dakota in my life,” said Ashton. “I told you a lie.”
“I was beginning to think so.”
“But I shall drop all that. From this time on you can trust me.”
After supper Walter went round with Ashton to a house in Harrison Street—the boarding-house referred to. The door was opened by a careworn woman of middle age.
“How do you do, Mr. Ashton?” she said, with an inquiring look.
“Very well, thank you, Mrs. Canfield. Have you any rooms vacant?”