“I say I lend him ten cents——”
“Ten cents!” repeated Tavia hysterically. “But ten cents wouldn’t take him ten miles——”
“But he have all the rest himself,” explained the Italian, with the air of one who has told the answer to a clever riddle. “All he need more than he got, ten cents. I give him.”
“It was more than kind of you,” cried Dorothy gratefully. “I can give you the ten cents, but I can never repay your kindness.”
With the words she got out her purse and from it took some money which she extended toward Joe’s benefactor. He seemed reluctant at first to take it, but, upon Dorothy’s insistence, overcame his scruples.
They had turned away after repeated expressions of thanks when suddenly Dorothy broke away from Tavia and ran back again.
“There is just one more thing I should like to ask you,” she said breathlessly. “Do you know whether my brother actually bought a ticket to Dugonne as he intended to?”
The Italian shook his head and shrugged his shoulders in that exaggerated gesture of regret.
“I cannot tell, Miss. He went off in the crowd. I never see him again.”
So Dorothy had to be content with the information she had. As a matter of fact, she was more than satisfied. She was jubilant.