"Oh! Hop Houghton. He won't come now, it's too late. He's gone to a
place down in North street, I guess,--a place I don't like, there's so
much tobacco smoked and so much beer drank there." Bert cast a final
glance up the street, but could see nothing of his friend.

"No, he won't come now. So much the worse for him! He likes the men down
there; I don't."

"Ah!" said the man, taking off his hat and giving it a brush with his
elbow as they entered the restaurant, as if trying to appear as
respectable as he could in the eyes of a newsboy of such fastidious
tastes.

To make him feel quite comfortable in his mind on that point, Bert
hastened to say:--

"I mean rowdies, and such. Poor people, if they behave themselves, are
just as respectable to me as rich folks. I ain't at all aristocratic!"

"Ah, indeed!" And the old man smiled again, and seemed to look relieved.
"I'm very glad to hear it."

He placed his hat on the floor, and took a seat opposite Bert at a
little table which they had all to themselves. Bert offered him the bill
of fare.

"I must ask you to choose for me; nothing very extravagant, you know I
am used to plain fare."

"So am I. But I'm going to have a dinner, for once in my life, and so