"He kept on checking checks. 'Probably the postman knows where they live,' he said, without looking up.
"'But all their letters are headed that way,' I said.
"He pushed some papers aside with a jerk, and picked up a little book like the one the cabman had, and began shoving the leaves over with his thumb; then he said with a little snort, 'Street's only two blocks long;—couldn't be no such number.' Then he stuck the book in his pocket and went to checking checks.
"I thought things over for a minute. I did hate to give up; but he didn't seem to be interested enough so's you could notice, and I didn't know who else to apply to. By and by I leaned close to the window:—'What would you do if you were in my place?' I asked.
"'I'd find out the right address,' he said, without looking up,—and went on checking checks.
"'How?' I asked, humbly.
"'Look in a city directory,' still figuring.
"'Where will I find one?'
"'Information desk,' he said in a tired tone,—checking checks.
