"Whew! but he does drink a pile!" he added to the two, as he
held a cup to his father's lips.
"I've brought something you can give him," said Frank, going to his
basket and depositing the articles upon a rickety table that stood in
a corner.
"And we'll send a doctor around here, too," he added. "You haven't had
one lately, I guess."
"Not this week. He charged too much, and he wouldn't come if I didn't
pay aforehand," replied the street urchin.
"Pep, what is your full name?" asked Richard abruptly.
The boy was silent.
"Why won't you tell me? I don't want to hurt you."
"Dad said afore he got sick he didn't want people to know it; that's
why," exclaimed Pep finally.
"Why not? He's honest, I'm sure."
"Honest? Bet yer he is! But he don't want his old friends to know how
he's come down."
"Oh!" exclaimed Richard, a new light breaking in upon him.
"Then you were better off once?"
"'Deed we were when marm was alive, and sister Mary. When they died
dad went on a spree--the first and last one--and spent what money was
left after the bills was paid. Then he sold our stuff and we came here,
and I got into the streets."
"How long ago is that?"
"'Most three years. It's been tough times since then."
And Pep suddenly raised his coat sleeve to wipe away two big tears
that had started to come down his cheeks.
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