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"I thought you weren't a New Yorker," Norris went on. "How do you like things in the city?" "First-rate. I haven't seen much of the place yet, though." "Where do you live?" "I board with the Massanets." "Oh, a relative?" "Oh, no. I never knew them until I got acquainted with Frank here." "Rather slow at their house, I imagine." "Oh, I like it very well."
But I think I can find my way anywhere quick enough, if you wish to send me on an errand," he added, thinking Mr. Mann might possibly have some commission for him to execute. "No doubt you could," replied the gentleman dryly. "But I don't wish to send you anywhere. You are an orphan, I believe. Where do you live?" "I board with the Massanets." "Does Norris board with them, too?" "No, sir."
He did not like the manner in which the shipping-clerk had spoken of Frank and his family. "I did not think the Massanets kept boarders," continued Norris. "I thought they were too retired for that." "I am the only one, and am treated like one of the family." "Frank has got a sister, hasn't he?" "Yes." "Maybe that's the attraction," suggested Norris. "My landlady has a pretty daughter, too."
Sunday morning dawned clear and bright. Richard was naturally an early riser, but the unaccustomed sounds in the streets awoke him at an even earlier hour than he usually arose, and when seven o'clock came, and the Massanets assembled for breakfast, they found that their boarder had had quite a delightful walk. By ten o'clock the Massanets were all ready and bound for church.
Retracing his way down Broadway the boy at length crossed over to Grand Street, and directed his steps towards the east side. When he reached the Massanets' it was quarter past nine. Mattie let him in, stating that her mother and her brother had not yet returned.
So Richard told of everything that had happened since he had gone to work of his intimacy with the Massanets, his acquaintanceship with Earle Norris, the adventure at the Laurel Club, and all. Mr. Joyce listened in silence until the boy's story was concluded. Then he put a number of questions, to make sure that nothing had been left out or covered up.
"That's what I call luck!" thought Richard, as he hurried back to the Massanets' home. "I'm mighty glad I called on Mr. Martin. He seems to be a gentleman and will no doubt do what is right. I hope Frank has been equally fortunate." Mrs. Massanet was surprised to see him returning so soon. "What ees eet?" she asked, anxiously. "I hope you no deesheartened a'ready?"
The store to which Richard had referred was a small but neat one, situated upon the corner of the street in which the Massanets lived and Second Avenue. It was kept by Jonas Martin, an elderly man, and his son, James. The stock consisted principally of books and stationery, although the proprietors also kept papers and magazines, for which there was a steady daily demand.
Mann took the elevator and went below. "I can't see how those people could have got a single damaged volume," said Richard when the head of the firm had departed. "I remember that box well, and every volume in it was perfect." On returning to the Massanets' that evening Frank heard bad news. An aunt had died over in Port Richmond, on Staten Island.
But Frank soon talked him out of this, and by the time they reached the Massanets' home Richard decided to "have it out" the first thing in the morning. But upon reaching the store the following day a disappointment awaited him. Mr. Williams had gone to Boston, and would not be back for several days. "I hate to tell Mr. Mann," said Richard. "I guess I'll wait till Mr. Williams returns."
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