“Thank you,” said Dick, “I’d like to,” and he could not help thinking Ida the nicest girl he had ever seen.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Greyson, hospitably, “we shall be glad to see you both here again.”
“Thank you very much,” said Henry Fosdick, gratefully. “We shall like very much to come.”
I will not dwell upon the hour spent in Sunday school, nor upon the remarks of Mr. Greyson to his class. He found Dick’s ignorance of religious subjects so great that he was obliged to begin at the beginning with him. Dick was interested in hearing the children sing, and readily promised to come again the next Sunday.
When the service was over Dick and Henry walked homewards. Dick could not help letting his thoughts rest on the sweet little girl who had given him so cordial a welcome, and hoping that he might meet her again.
“Mr. Greyson is a nice man,–isn’t he, Dick?” asked Henry, as they were turning into Mott Street, and were already in sight of their lodging-house.
“Ain’t he, though?” said Dick. “He treated us just as if we were young gentlemen.”
“Ida seemed to take a great fancy to you.”
“She’s a tip-top girl,” said Dick, “but she asked so many questions that I didn’t know what to say.”
He had scarcely finished speaking, when a stone whizzed by his head, and, turning quickly, he saw Micky Maguire running round the corner of the street which they had just passed.