"I don't know," replied the other, "but I wouldn't think so at least. He never said anything to me in regard to it, when I left him this morning." Yet so he was, though he never said so, when they met him and exchanged a few words.
"I'm going to a friend's house," and he gave Wyeth a number. They told him of their success, whereupon he secured a dollar, and that was the last time they saw him. He went back with the same porter they had come over with.
It was Legs who informed Sidney that young Hatfield was going back to Attalia. Legs was having some experiences of his own. Before he related them to Wyeth, he inquired:
"Well, Books, how goes it?" He was cheerful as usual—in fact Legs was always cheerful—with one exception, which we shall cite presently.
"Fine, Legs," Wyeth beamed. "Couldn't be better, which is saying a great deal. How's things with you?"
"Could be a whole lot better," he laughed, with dancing eyes; "but they have been worse. I've been busy though. Working right along. Got me a gal now, and won a little change today that I might lose tonight."
He did—and more. He lost all he had, borrowed a quarter from Wyeth, wanted a dollar, but Wyeth halted him, advising that he loaned only to purchase the means to fill his stomach, and then only when it was begging for bread.
After this, and for some time to come, Legs' fortune varied from near prosperity, to going for a whole day without anything to eat. And at these times, he dispensed with his usual cheerfulness.
One day, he pawned his meagre jewelry for all he could obtain thereon, which amounted to only a dollar and a half. He ate a big meal at a cheap restaurant, got his shirts from the laundry, paid fifty cents on his room rent, and went with the remainder to a game. Luck was with him, as it is with all, once in a while. True, it was only in a small measure, but he had sufficient to finish paying his rent, bought a cold lunch that he sensibly tucked away for future purposes, and went to bed with a dollar in his pocket.