I stopped to look at some books and then I couldn't find you
again," replied Richard. "I'm so glad you've come. They've gone to
bed."
"All below decks, eh? Well, it's time. I've spent an hour looking for
you over on the Bowery. How are you, Mulligan?" the last to the
policeman, who nodded pleasantly.
Producing a key, Doc Linyard opened the restaurant door. Then he handed
the policeman a cigar as a reward for the trouble the officer had
taken, and he and Richard entered.
The old sailor locked the door carefully behind them and lit a hand
lamp that his thoughtful wife had placed upon the front counter.
"I thought such places as this kept lights all night," observed Richard,
as they walked back.
"Most of 'em do,--them as has gas. But the insurance companies think
oil dangerous, so we do without."
Doc Linyard preceded the boy up a narrow stairway to a small room on
the third floor.
"Here you are," he exclaimed, as he set the lamp down on a table.
"Betty got it all fixed for you. There's your valise and the bed's
waiting for you. Take my advice and don't get up too early, not afore
seven o'clock any way,--and pleasant dreams to you."
"Thank you; the same to you," replied Richard sincerely.
It was a cozy apartment, and the boy had not been in it over five
minutes before he felt perfectly at home.
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