to night school, now, and I'm studying book-keeping."
Dick had noticed that Tim spoke better language than formerly, for the use of "dis," "dat," "youse" and kindred expressions was almost entirely eliminated from his conversation.
"Where are you going now, Tim?" asked Dick, when they had exchanged some remarks.
"Home. I've just finished work. Have to get ready for the early morning papers soon, though, so I'm bound for home."
"No, you're not!" exclaimed the rich youth. "You're coming to have something to eat with me. It's lonesome dining alone. Come on, hop in and we'll be there in no time. Then I'll run you up home in this buzz-wagon."
"But, Dick, I haven't any decent clothes on. I've been working and"
"Nonsense! What do I care about clothes? Get in. We'll hire a private room if you're so afraid some one will see you."
"It isn't that, only you"
"Don't you worry about me; get in."
Tim complied, rather diffidently, and the much-wondering chauffeur started the car again. As it swent along there was another closely following it, and, as the vehicle containing Dick and Tim made various turns and twists through the different streets, to reach the restaurant, the other taxicab did the same. Finally Tim, whose life in New York had made him quick-witted along cer-
