Joe and the old man were together a great
deal during that time. They were engaged jointly in an occupation
which was not strictly within the limit of the law, and which,
therefore, required mutual confidence. The young fellow had,
apparently, taken a great liking to Ralph, had made much of him in
a jovial way, and, indeed, in several instances, had successfully
defended him against the results of Old Simon's wrath. The child had
come to regard him as a friend, and had not been displeased to meet
him, after all these years, in this unexpected manner. He had had a
general idea that the young man's character was not good, and that his
life was not moral, but he had not expected to be badly treated by
him. Now, however, he felt compelled to believe that Joe had abused
the privileges of friendship. The more he thought of it, the more sure
he became that he had been deceived and deserted. He was alone in a
strange city, without money or friends. What was to be done?
Perhaps the bar-tender, understanding the difficulty, would help him
out of it. He resolved to apply to him.
"Mr. Bummerton," he said, approaching the bar again, "now't Joe's
gone, an' I ain't got no money, I don't see how I'm goin' to git home.
Could--could you lend me enough to pay my fare up? I'll send it back
to you right away. I will,--honest!"
The man pushed both his hands into the pockets of his pantaloons, and
stood for a minute staring at the boy, in feigned astonishment.
"Why, my little innocent!" he exclaimed, "what do ye take me for;
a reg'lar home for the friendless? No, I ain't in the charitable
business jist now.
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