OUR LITTLE NEWSBOY.
237
'Never mind, I can kindle the fire with 'em. Put that in your pocket; and trot home, my man, as fast as possible.'
'Where do you live?' I asked, picking up the fifty cents that fell from the little fingers, too benumbed to hold it.
'Mills Court, out of Hanover. Cold, ain't it?' said the boy, blowing on his purple hands, and hopping feebly from one leg to the other, to take the stiffness out.
'He can't go all that way in this storm—such a mite, and so used up with cold and sleep, John.'
'Of course he can't; we'll put him in a car,' began John; when the boy wheezed out,'—
'No; I've got ter wait for Sam. He'll be along as soon's the theatre's done. He said he would; and so I'm waitin'.'
'Who is Sam?' I asked.
