“Telephone for Dr. Smithers,” the clerk called to a helper as they placed the boy in the elevator. “He’s just around the corner.”
The lad was put to bed in Frank’s room, and the clerk, who seemed a little sorry, for his question about payment, brought in some rubber hot-water bags which were placed about the silent form under the coverlet.
“We must thaw him out,” he said. “That’s the best treatment I know of.”
In a little while the doctor arrived. He said the clerk had done the right thing and he ordered some hot broth prepared.
“Alice ought to be here,” remarked Bart. “This would be just in her line.”
“Wonder who he is?” asked Frank, as the three boys were in Bart’s room, for the doctor, and one of the women servants of the hotel, who had volunteered for a nurse, were busy trying to restore the boy to consciousness.
“Probably some poor homeless wanderer,” replied Fenn. “Tough luck, to be without a home on a night like this.”
“I only hope Ned isn’t in any such plight,” spoke Bart.
“Why should he be?” asked Fenn. “He had plenty of money when he left home.”
“You can never tell what will happen in New York,” replied Fenn with a wise look, which, though he did not appreciate it, was quite a truthful remark.