“Not yet. You take this note and it will be all right. But you must not lose a minute.”
“I’ll run all the way,” replied the girl.
Taking out a notebook he carried, Matt hastily scribbled down the following brief message:
“Andy: I have found my father. Come with the bearer at once.
Matt.”
This he folded up and addressed to his partner. In another minute the girl was flying down the tenement stairs, two steps at a time, the other girl close behind her.
When they were gone Matt closed the door and again turned his attention to his father.
Mr. Lincoln’s eyes were still closed, but by putting his ear down to his parent’s chest, Matt found that his father was breathing quite regularly. He continued to bathe his parent’s forehead and also fanned him with a newspaper which was lying by.
While waiting for his father to come to again, Matt could not help but gaze at the surroundings. The garret room was small and bare of furniture, 302 containing nothing but the mattress, a broken-down stove, and a few cracked dishes. There was half a loaf of stale bread beside the dishes, and nothing else to eat was in sight.
“What a place to live in!” murmured the boy to himself. “Poor father! Poor father!”
He again bent over the motionless form, and it was not long before he had the satisfaction of seeing his father open his eyes.