“Yet,” thought he with something of hopefulness, “there must be something for me to do as well as the rest.”

Just then a boy some two years older than Paul paced slowly by, and in passing, chanced to fix his eyes upon our hero.  He probably saw something in Paul which attracted him, for he stepped up and extending his hand, said, “why, Tom, how came you here?”

“My name isn’t Tom,” said Paul, feeling a little puzzled by this address.

“Why, so it isn’t.  But you look just like my friend, Tom Crocker.”

To this succeeded a few inquiries, which Paul unsuspiciously answered.

“Do you like oysters?” inquired the new-comer, after a while.

“Very much.”

“Because I know of a tip top place to get some, just round the corner.  Wouldn’t you like some?”

Paul thanked his new acquaintance, and said he would.

Without more ado, his companion ushered him into a basement room near by.  He led the way into a curtained recess, and both boys took seats one on each side of a small table.

“Just pull the bell, will you, and tell the waiter we’ll have two stews.”

Paul did so.

“I suppose,” continued the other, “the governor wouldn’t like it much if he knew where I was.”

“The governor!” repeated Paul.  “Why, it isn’t against the laws, is it?”

“No,” laughed the other.  “I mean my father.  How jolly queer you are!” He meant to say green, but had a purpose in not offending Paul.

“Are you the Governor’s son?” asked Paul in amazement.

“To be sure,” carelessly replied the other.

Paul’s wonder had been excited many times in the course of the day, but this was more surprising than anything which had yet befallen him.  That he should have the luck to fall in with the son of the Governor, on his first arrival in the city, and that the latter should prove so affable and condescending, was indeed surprising.  Paul inwardly determined to mention it in his first letter to Aunt Lucy.  He could imagine her astonishment.

While he was busy with these thoughts, his companion had finished his oysters.

“Most through?” he inquired nonchalantly.

“I’ve got to step out a minute; wait till I come back.”

Paul unsuspectingly assented.

He heard his companion say a word to the barkeeper, and then go out.

He waited patiently for fifteen minutes and he did not return; another quarter of an hour, and he was still absent.  Thinking he might have been unexpectedly detained, he rose to go, but was called back by the barkeeper.

“Hallo, youngster! are you going off without paying?”

“For what?” inquired Paul, in surprise.

“For the oysters, of course.  You don’t suppose I give ’em away, do you?”

“I thought,” hesitated Paul, “that the one who was with me paid,—­the Governor’s son,” he added, conscious of a certain pride in his intimacy with one so nearly related to the chief magistrate of the Commonwealth.