“Well, perhaps ye can be of service to me.  Do ye know many folks in the city?”

“Oh, yes, a great many.  Some are business friends and some are folks in high society.”

“I don’t care for no high society.  But I’ve got to collect six hundred dollars an’ I want somebody to identify me.”

“Oh, I can do that easily, Mr. Bean.”

“Kin ye?” The farmer grew interested at once.  “If ye kin I’ll be much obliged to ye.”

“Where must you be identified?”

“Down to the office of Barwell & Cameron, on Broad street.  Do ye know ’em?”

“I know of them, and I can find somebody who does know them, so there will not be the least trouble.”

“It’s a load off my mind,” said Josiah Bean, with a sigh.  “Ye see, the money is comin’ to my wife.  She writ to ’em that I was comin’ to collect an’ they writ back it would be all right, only I would have to be identified.  Jest as if everybody in Haydown Center don’t know I’m Josiah Bean an’ a piller in the Union Church down there, an’ a cousin to Jedge Bean o’ Lassindale.”

“Well, they have to be mighty particular when they pay out any money in the city.  There are so many sharpers around.”

“I ain’t no sharper.”

“To be sure you are not, and neither am I. But I once had trouble getting money.”

“Is thet so?”

“Yes.  But after I proved who I was the folks were pretty well ashamed of themselves,” went on Henry Davis, smoothly.

So the talk ran on and at the end of half an hour the old farmer and the slick-looking individual were on exceedingly friendly terms.  Henry Davis asked much about the old man and gathered in a good stock of information.

When Philadelphia was gained it was dark, and coming out of the big railroad station Joe at first knew not which way to turn.  The noise and the crowd of people confused him.

“Have a cab?  Carriage?” bawled the hackmen.

“Paper!” yelled a newsboy.  “All the evenin’ papers!”

“Smash yer baggage!” called out a luggage boy, not near as tall as our hero.

Looking ahead, Joe saw Josiah Bean and the slick-looking individual moving down the street and without realizing it, our hero began to follow the pair.

“He must be some friend,” said our hero to himself.

He wondered where they were going and his curiosity getting the better of him he continued to follow them for half a dozen blocks.  At last they came to a halt in front of a building displaying the sign: 

JOHNSON’S QUAKER HOTEL

Moderate terms for all.

“This hotel is all right and the prices are right, too,” Joe heard the slick-looking man tell the old farmer.

“Then thet suits me,” answered Josiah Bean.  “I’ll go in an’ git a room fer the night.”

“I think I might as well do the same,” said Henry Davis.  “I don’t care to go away over to my boarding house at Fairmount Park.”