“Fred!” exclaimed Smith, seizing my hand.
There was no doubt about it, and no doubt about all my foolish suspicions as to his having forgotten me or ceased to care for me being groundless. His solemn face lit up almost to a look of jubilation as he grasped my hand and said, “Why, Fred, old man, whatever are you doing here?”
“What are you doing?” cried I. “Who ever would have thought of running up against you in this place? But I say,” said I, suddenly remembering the time. “I have got to be in Hawk Street in two minutes, Jack. For goodness’ sake, show us the way, if you know it.”
Smith opened his black eyes very wide.
“You have to be somewhere in Hawk Street?” he asked.
“Yes. Merrett, Barnacle, and Company’s the name. I’m after a place they have got there.”
Smith’s face passed through a variety of expressions, ending in the old solemn look as he quietly said, “So am I.”
“You!” I exclaimed. “You after the same place? Oh, Jack!”
“I’m awfully sorry,” said he. “I didn’t know—”
“Oh, it’s not that,” I interrupted, “at all. I wish they had two places, though.”