"Hey, boy! What's your name?"

"Bob Chester."

"Where are you going with that basket of groceries?"

"To deliver an order to one of my guardian's customers."

"Are you honest?"

"I hope so, sir," replied Bob, his face expressing surprise that his
probity should be questioned.

The man who had hailed Bob Chester appeared to be about twenty-five
years old, and his clothes were well-fitting, giving him the air of a
man of means. With him were two other men; one of whom, several years
older, was also well dressed. The third member of the group was entirely
different from the others. His clothes were grotesque, and bore every
trace of having been purchased in some country store. His derby hat was
green-black, and apparently a size too small, judging from the manner in
which it rested on his head. Had not his appearance bespoken that he was
a stranger come from the country to see the sights of New York, his
face, sunburned and honest, would have proclaimed him as one
unaccustomed and unfamiliar with the wiles of a great city.

Prior to his having been addressed, the boy who had given his name as
Bob Chester had noticed the difference between the three men as they
stood in earnest conversation on the sidewalk, and instinctively he had
been attracted by the frankness of the countryman's face. He had been
wondering why the two New Yorkers were so interested in the other man,