“Yeah, I’ll try hard. I don’t know as I’ll make it, kid. A guy gets sort o’ used to doin’ without a job after a while. It ain’t so hard, kid. If you’ve got a good spiel you won’t never starve. There’s a lot of mushy folks in the world. You’d be surprised how easy they fall for a hard-luck steer, kid.”
“Just as I did,” Jim had said.
“Yeah. But, say, kid, honest I wasn’t meanin’ to bleed you. I really meant to go to Norwalk the day after I first saw you, just like I told you. But somethin’ sort o’ prevented.”
“There’s another thing, Webb. I’m going to see the Judge in the morning before he goes into court. The Police Captain said he’d fix it so I could. And I’m going to tell him you ain’t really a—a loafer, and about how good you used to be to me, Webb, and I guess he won’t be hard on you. But if I do that you must give me back that money, what’s left of it.”
“All of it? Well, but listen, kid, how am I goin’ to get to Norwalk?”
“I’ll bring you enough for that. How much does it cost on the train?”
“Four dollars.” Jim blinked at that, and then Webb had said: “That’s a lie, kid. Two-eighty’s the price.”
“I’ll get it. That other money, what you stole from Clem Harland, must go back to him. Remember, Webb, I’ll have to pay back what you used of it, and the five dollars I borrowed for you besides, and it ain’t going to be easy. Father’s pretty hard up this year, and I don’t get but ten dollars a month.”
“Yeah, I know about your father. I wrote and tried to make a touch awhile back, but nothin’ stirrin’. Well, what you say goes, kid. You’re sure white, and I won’t forget it.”
When he had reached the door Webb had called: “Say, kid, if you’ve got a quarter you ain’t needin’ you might hand it to the old guy there an’ tell him to fetch me in some supper. I’ll bet the cuisine at this hotel’s rotten.”