"I
mean the one you spoke of?"
"Well, I'd know him if I saw him, but I'm not likely to. He was tall and
good looking, with a little black mustache. He got out of the train in a
hurry when he woke up. You see, he was sitting with his window open--it
was very hot--he fell asleep. I noticed him tossing around in his seat,
and every once in a while he would feel in his pocket. Then he hollered."
"Maybe someone robbed him," suggested Betty, yet in her heart she knew
the bill she had found must belong to this unknown young man--the very
man to whom they had once given something to eat.
"No one was in the car but him and me," said the boy, "and I know I
didn't get it. Maybe he didn't have it--or maybe it fell out of the
window. Anyhow, he cut up an awful row and rushed out. He might have
dreamed it."
"Me want to go home!" whined Nellie.
"All right--I'll take you," spoke the boy. "I can walk fine now. Thank
you very much," and he pulled on his shoe, gingerly enough, for the cut
was no small one. Then, shouldering his pack, and taking hold of Nellie's
hand--one having been refilled with chocolates by Grace--the boy peddler
moved off down the road limping, the girls calling out good-bys to him.
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