“Sometimes I only sell one lot in a week.  It isn’t like a regular business.  It is precarious.  Still, take the year through and I make a pretty good income.  Come in here.  We can get a good lunch here,” and he led the way into a modest restaurant, not far from the site of the old post office, which will be remembered by those whose residence in New York dates back twenty years or more.

“Now we will have a nice lunch,” said the agent.  “I hope you can do justice to it.”

“I generally can,” responded Rodney, smiling.  “I am seldom troubled with a poor appetite.”

“Ditto for me.  Now what have you been doing this morning?”

“Looking for a place.”

“With what success?”

“Pretty good if I had only been earlier.”

Rodney told the story of his application to the manager of the railroad office.

“You will know better next time.  I think you’ll succeed.  I did.  When I came to New York at the age of twenty two I had only fifty dollars.  That small sum had to last me twelve weeks.  You can judge that I didn’t live on the fat of the land during that time.  I couldn’t often eat at Delmonico’s.  Even Beefsteak John’s would have been too expensive for me.  However, those old days are over.”

The next day and the two following Rodney went about the city making application for positions, but every place seemed full.

On the third day Mr. Woods said, “I shall have to leave you for a week or more, Rodney.”

“Where are you going?”

“To Philadelphia.  There’s a man there who is a capitalist and likes land investments.  I am going to visit him, and hope to sell him several lots.  He once lived in this city, so he won’t object to New York investments.”

“I hope you will succeed, Mr. Woods.  I think if you are going away I had better give up the room, and find cheaper accommodations.  I am getting near the end of my money.”

“You are right.  It is best to be prudent.”

That evening Rodney found a room which he could rent for two dollars a week.  He estimated that by economy he could get along for fifty cents a day for his eating, and that would be a decided saving.

He was just leaving the house the next morning, gripsack in hand, when on the steps he met Louis Wheeler, his acquaintance of the train.

“Where are you going?” asked Wheeler.

“I am leaving this house.  I have hired a room elsewhere.”

Wheeler’s countenance fell, and he looked dismayed.

“Why, I have just taken a room here for a week,” he said.

“You will find it a good place.”

“But—­I wouldn’t have come here if I hadn’t thought I should have company.”

“I ought to feel complimented.”

Rodney was convinced that Wheeler had come in the hopes of stealing the casket of jewels a second time, and he felt amused at the fellow’s discomfiture.