“Hospital!” exclaimed the young fellow, still smiling sweetly, “thass too bad! Same’s my Aunt Polly⁠—hic⁠—my Aunt Polly’s in the hospital, too⁠—ole auntie’s been havin’ twins! Whuzzamatter whiz you ?”

“I’ve got a broken arm⁠—” Jurgis began.

“So,” said the other, sympathetically. “That ain’t so bad⁠—you get over that. I wish somebody’s break my arm, ole chappie⁠—damfi don’t! Then they’s treat me better⁠—hic⁠—hole me up, ole sport! Whuzzit you wamme do?”

“I’m hungry, sir,” said Jurgis.

“Hungry! Why don’t you hassome supper?”

“I’ve got no money, sir.”

“No money! Ho, ho⁠—less be chums, ole boy⁠—jess like me! No money, either⁠—a’most busted! Why don’t you go home, then, same’s me?”