about four hours. Is there any place particular you want to go?"
"Yes, I was going out to South 101st Street."
And Bob described the location of the apartment house where he expected to find Mrs. Cameron, the sister of the waitress who had been so kind to him.
"Then you want to take this cyar. It runs right by the corner, and when you come back, you keep on it until you get to the Northwestern station, where you get your train."
"All right, thank you!" exclaimed Bob, going out into the street to hail the car that had been pointed out to him.
The porter stood on the curb, evidently with the intention of seeing that Bob got aboard without mishap, until turning his head he caught sight of the sharp-featured woman, whose comment he had overheard.
"Ma soul, Ah sure don't want to get in any argument with such a woman," he muttered to himself, and bolted precipitately, soon losing himself in the crowd of pedestrians.
The flight of the porter seemed to confirm the woman's suspicions, but she instantly realized that she could not hope to overtake the darky, and quickly determined to hail Bob.
Rushing into the street, she cried in a shrill voice:
