Set right down. Lonesome
at the boardin' house, was it?"
Pearson made a grimace. "Lonesome!" he repeated. "Ugh! Let's talk of
something else. Were you in time for your appointment yesterday noon?"
"Why, yes; I was and I wasn't. Say, won't you have a cigar? That's
right. And I s'pose, bein' as this is New York, I'd ought to ask you to
take somethin' to lay the dust, hey? I ain't made any inquiries myself,
but I shouldn't wonder if the Commodore--the feller that let you
in--could find somethin' in the spare room closet or somewheres, if I
ask him."
The young man laughed. "If you mean a drink," he said, "I don't care for
it, thank you."
"What? You ain't a teetotaler, are you?"
"No, not exactly. But--"
"But you can get along without it, hey? So can I; generally do, fur's
that goes. But I'M from South Denboro. I thought here in New York--"
"Oh, there are many people, even here in New York, who are not convinced
that alcohol is a food."
"You don't tell me! Well, I'm livin' and learnin' every day. Judgin'
from stories and the yarns in the Boston newspapers, folks up our way
have the idea that this town is a sort of annex to the bad place. All
right, then we won't trouble the Commodore. I notice you're lookin' over
my quarters.
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