“Oh, just the other end of the town, sir,” said Mr. Potter. “I live on Acorn Street.”
“Acorn Street?” repeated Mr. King, wrinkling his brows, “and where may that be, pray tell?”
“It's over at the South End, sir; it runs off from Baker Street and Highland Square.”
“Oh yes, yes,” said the old gentleman, without much more idea than before.
“I know where it is, father,” said Jasper. “Dear me! You've had to take a good bit of time to get all this information, Mr. Potter.”
Mr. Potter looked down busily on the carpet, trying not to think how tired his feet were, saving some car-fare for their owner.
“Well, now what number?” The old gentleman seeming to desire his whole address, that was soon given too,—“23 Acorn Street, South End.”
“And I suppose you have a family?” went on the old gentleman, determined to find out all there was to it, now he had commenced.
The little clerk began to hem and to haw, behind his hand. “No, sir, I haven't; that is, yes, I have considerable—I mean my four sisters, sir; we all live together.”
“Oh—ah!” replied Mr. King. “Well, now thank you very much, Mr. Potter; and as your time is valuable, and should be paid for,”—he tucked a bill within the nervous hands.