And to his surprise the old man regarded him very intently in return. He stared, with a wistful expression, into Tom's face, and he clasped his hands in trembling excitement.
Tom was filled with astonishment at the old man's strange demeanour. He stood puffing at his cigarette, and tried to understand matters. Failing, he threw his cigarette away, took a fresh one from his pocket, and approached the old man.
"Got a match?" he inquired, pleasantly.
The old man, much agitated, nearly fell from the railing as he leaned dangerously forward.
"Sonny, can you read?" he demanded in a quavering voice.
"Certainly, I can," said Tom, encouragingly. He waived the affair of the match.
The old man fumbled in his pocket. "You look honest, sonny. I've been looking for an honest feller fur a'most a week. I've set on this railing fur six days," he cried, plaintively.
He drew forth a letter and handed it to Tom. "Read it fur me, sonny, read it," he said, coaxingly.
Tom took the letter and leaned back against the railings. As he opened it and prepared to read, the old man wriggled like a child at a forbidden feast.
Thundering trucks made frequent interruptions, and seven men in a hurry jogged Tom's elbow, but he succeeded in reading what follows:—