"Where are you going to sleep to-night, Fosdick?" asked Dick, as
they stood on the sidewalk.
"I don't know," said Fosdick, a little sadly. "In some doorway, I
expect. But I'm afraid the police will find me out, and make me
move on."
"I'll tell you what," said Dick, "you must go home with me. I guess
my bed will hold two."
"Have you got a room?" asked the other, in surprise.
"Yes," said Dick, rather proudly, and with a little excusable
exultation. "I've got a room over in Mott Street; there I can
receive my friends. That'll be better than sleepin' in a
door-way,--won't it?"
"Yes, indeed it will," said Fosdick. "How lucky I was to come across
you! It comes hard to me living as I do. When my father was alive I
had every comfort."
"That's more'n I ever had," said Dick. "But I'm goin' to try to live
comfortable now. Is your father dead?"
"Yes," said Fosdick, sadly. "He was a printer; but he was drowned
one dark night from a Fulton ferry-boat, and, as I had no relations
in the city, and no money, I was obliged to go to work as quick as
I could. But I don't get on very well."
"Didn't you have no brothers nor sisters?" asked Dick.
"No," said Fosdick; "father and I used to live alone. He was always
so much company to me that I feel very lonesome without him. There's
a man out West somewhere that owes him two thousand dollars. He used
to live in the city, and father lent him all his money to help him
go into business; but he failed, or pretended to, and went off.
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