"Let's take 'em raw," said Fuz. "Then we can go ahead."

Dick Lee had been in the city before, but never in such company, nor in
such very good clothes; and there was an expression on his face a good
deal like awe, when he actually found himself standing at an
"oyster-counter," in line with five well-dressed young white boys.

The man behind the counter served him, too, in regular turn; and Dick
felt it a point of honor to empty the half-shell before him as quickly
as any of the rest. There was no delay about that, anywhere along that
line of boys.

"Dick," said Ford, "where's your lemon? There it is!"

Ford had already explained to the rest that it was "against the
constitution and by-laws of Fulton Market to eat a raw oyster without
the lemon-juice," and Dick would have blushed if he could.

"Dat's so. I forgot um!" and then he added, with great care, "Yes, Mr.
Foster, the lemon improves the oyster."

"I declare!" muttered Ford. "He's keeping it up!"

The oysters were eaten, and then it was "Come on, boys;" and away they
went up Fulton Street to Broadway. They walked two and two, as well as
the streams of people would let them, but the Hart boys kept a little in
the rear.

"What do you think of it, Joe?"