He stopped at length on the doorstep of one of the fine houses on Arch street, and boldly rung the bell.
“Wonder what the deuce he wants there?” muttered the officer. “It is a queer place for a young reprobate like him to be visiting. Not much like the house of a burglar, that’s sure.”
It was more than an hour before Will reappeared. He went now straight to his home in a very different quarter of the city, leaving the officer full of wonder that a boy like Will could have business detaining him so long in an Arch street residence.
Will had found the grateful old gentleman at home, and had had a long chat with him.
There was much evidence of wealth in Mr. Somers’s surroundings, and the room in which he was interviewed by Will was richly furnished, and tastefully adorned with oil paintings and other objects of art.
He questioned Will very closely as to his former life, his present residence and mode of living, his advantages of education, etc.
His young visitor, however, was not very communicative.
“Never went to school much,” said Will, frankly, when this point was touched on. “Been pickin’ up my schoolin’ on the street. It’s a rough one, but I’ve learnt something. I ain’t worth a cent at books, but I’m good at men.”
“Which is a very important branch of education,” said Mr. Somers. “Your father and mother are not living then?”
“Never had none that I know on.”