terest blinded
him to the character of his own conduct.

His experience in smoking had given him a distaste for the Park, for
this afternoon at least, and he made his way to the horse-cars
determined to return. It did make him feel a little forlorn to reflect
that he had no place to return to; no home but the streets. He had not
yet contracted that vagabond feeling which makes even them seem
homelike to the hundreds of homeless children who wander about in them
by day and by night.

He was in due time landed at the Astor House. It was about four
o'clock in the afternoon, and he had had nothing to eat since
breakfast. But for the cigar, he would have had a hearty appetite. As
it was, he felt faint, and thought he should relish some tea and
toast. He made his way, therefore, to a restaurant in Fulton street,
between Broadway and Nassau streets. It was a very respectable place,
but at that time in the afternoon there were few at the tables. Sam
had forty cents left. He found that this would allow him to buy a cup
of tea, a plate of beefsteak, a plate of toast, and a piece of pie. He
disposed of them, and going up to the desk paid his bill. Again he
found himself penniless.

"I wonder where I am going to sleep," he thought. "I guess I'll ask
some boot-blacks where they live. They can't afford to pay much."

The tea made his head feel better; and, though he was penniless, he
began to feel more cheerful than an hour before.

He wandered about till he got tired, leaning against a building
sometimes. He began to feel lonely. He knew nobody in the great city
except Clarence Brown, whom he did not care to meet again, and the
boot-black whose acquaintance he had made the day before.

"I wish I had some other boy with me," thought Sam; "somebody I knew.
It's awful lonesome."

Sam was social by temperament, and looked about him to see if he could
not make some one's acquaintance. Sitting on the same bench with
him--for he was in City Hall Park--was a boy of about his own age
apparently. To him Sam determined to make friendly overtures.

"What is your name, boy?" asked Sam.

The other boy looked round at him. He was very much freckled, and had
a sharp look which made him appear preternaturally old.

"What do you want to know for?" he asked.

"I don't know anybody here. I'd like to get acquainted."

The street boy regarded him attentively to see if he were in earnest,
and answered, after a pause, "My name is Tim Brady.