At the newspaper-stand he bought all the picture papers, and found a colored edition of nursery rhymes, which he concluded would be just the thing. "Now we are all right," he said, "come along, Blathers." Jack had been very ready and cheerful about his mission when talking to Varnum, but he had misgivings about it as he took his way to Sloven Street, in the heart of the poorest tenement-house district. "I suppose it is easy enough just to leave this stuff and come away," he thought; "but I am sure to make some fool break." He knew there were lots of men in college who "went in for that sort of thing"; but he had had no experience of that kind himself, and Varnum was the only man he knew well, who had. He had a vague idea that Varnum held prayer-meetings among the poor, and preached as well as ministered, and he feared he might be called upon to do something of the kind himself. It was quite dark, so he heard only one or two requests to shoot the dude, as he was passing lamp-lights, and to his infinite relief nothing was thrown at Blathers. He had expected certainly to have a row on the dog's account. In front of 62 Sloven Street he found a small boy smoking a cigarette, and inquired from him whether Jimmy Haggerty lived within. "Sure!" assented the youngster, removing the cigarette from his lips and holding the lighted end for Blathers to smell. "Is you one o' de Ha'vards?" "Ye-es," acknowledged Jack, doubtfully, feeling that he was deceiving the little man; for he suspected that he was not exactly the kind of "a Ha'vard" that was expected in those quarters. "Well say, how did de game come out? I ain't seen de bulletin-boards." Jack's heart leaped towards the boy at once; he discovered that there was a bond of sympathy between them after all. "I don't know," he answered; "I came away before the end. It was four to nothing in our favor then." "Chamesy Haggerty lives on de tird floor. I'll show ye up." Jack followed his pilot up the dark, smelly stairs, answering questions all the way as to the foot-ball game. "A-ah, ye can't do notin' widout Jarvis," commented the youngster, upon hearing of the half-back's injury. "Dat's a nice lookin' purp yer got," he said, eyeing Blathers, as they arrived at the third floor. "Guess he's a good 'un to fight, ain't he? Le 'me take care of him for yer, while you're inside." Jack did not accept this kind offer. His guide, pointing to a door, said: "Well, dat's Chimmie's. I ain't goin' in, 'cause he's got scarlet fever." "The devil he has!" exclaimed Jack. "Yare; leastways dat's what dey all say. Wait till I get down-stairs 'fore yer open de door." And with a vain whistle to Blathers he disappeared down-stairs.