But for this he had been severely punished,
though he could not feel that he had done very wrong in spending
the money he himself earned. However, it would be at least three
hours before the question of dinner would come up.
He put the money into the pocket of his ragged vest, and walked
on.
It was not so cold as the day before. The thermometer had risen
twenty-five degrees during the night--a great change, but not
unusual in our variable climate. Phil rather enjoyed this walk,
notwithstanding his back was a little lame.
He walked up the Bowery to the point where Third and Fourth
avenues converge into it. He kept on the left-hand side, and
walked up Fourth Avenue, passing the Cooper Institute and the
Bible House, and, a little further on, Stewart's magnificent
marble store. On the block just above stood a book and
periodical store, kept, as the sign indicated, by Richard
Burnton. Phil paused a moment to look in at the windows, which
were filled with a variety of attractive articles. Suddenly he
was conscious of his violin being forcibly snatched from under
his arm. He turned quickly, and thought he recognized Tim
Rafferty, to whom the reader was introduced in the third chapter
of this story.
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