"
"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
are you," cried Bert, generously. "What do you say to chicken soup--and
wind up with a big piece of squash pie! How's that for a Thanksgiving
dinner?"
"Sumptuous!" said the old man, appearing to glow with the warmth of the
room and the prospect of a good dinner. "But won't it cost you too
much?"
"Too much? No, sir!" said Bert. "Chicken soup, fifteen cents; pie--they
give tremendous big pieces here, thick, I tell you--ten cents.
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