Perhaps there is not a sufficient depth of earth for
them. Several times our boarder has appeared to be on the point of
suggesting something in regard to them, but, for some reason or
other, he says nothing.
CHAPTER III.
TREATING OF A NOVEL STYLE OF GIRL.
One afternoon, as I was hurrying down Broadway to catch the five
o'clock train, I met Waterford. He is an old friend of mine, and I
used to like him pretty well.
"Hello!" said he, "where are you going?"
"Home," I answered.
"Is that so?" said he. "I didn't know you had one."
I was a little nettled at this, and so I said, somewhat brusquely
perhaps:
"But you must have known I lived somewhere."
"Oh, yes! But I thought you boarded," said he. "I had no idea
that you had a home."
"But I have one, and a very pleasant home, too. You must excuse me
for not stopping longer, as I must catch my train."
"Oh! I'll walk along with you," said Waterford, and so we went down
the street together.
"Where is your little house?" he asked.
Why in the world he thought it was a little house I could not at
the time imagine, unless he supposed that two people would not
require a large one. But I know, now, that he lived in a very
little house himself.
But it was of no use getting angry with Waterford, especially as I
saw he intended walking all the way down to the ferry with me, so I
told him I didn't live in any house at all.
"Why, where DO you live?" he exclaimed, stopping short.
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