It was a quarter to ten in the morning and he was late. Snoddy struggled into his clothes. He hated waking up sometimes. Several times, within the several minutes, he cursed himself for waking up so late.
“Damnit, Blink’ll nevah fergive me,” he muttered.
He finally finished getting dressed and raced down the stairs. He managed to run into every Newsie that was walking up the stairs.
“‘Scuse me, Race. Watch out, Specs. Outta me way, Snipes!” he cried as he bolted down the stairs. “Mush, move!” was his final call, before he flew out the door.
If the Lodging House been in the old west, Snoddy would have left in a trail of dust. Every Newsie that was on the stairs and the entrance area stared open mouthed. Pie Eater walked to the top of the stairs, yawned, and said, “Snoddy must be late fer somethin’ agin.”
Jack, who had been talking to Kloppman, turned slightly toward Pie Eater and laughed, “Must be.”
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