The boy opened the door and looked out upon the dawning day.
"Ain't it nice!" he said. "I can git along splendid in the daylight. I ain't afraid, but it's awful lonesome in the dark, 'specially when you're away from home this way."
"An' where do ye be goin' now?" inquired the watchman.
"Home; to Scranton. I can walk there, so long as it's daylight. Oh! I can git along beautiful now. Which is the bes' way to go?"
The man looked down at him wonderingly for a moment. "Well, ye do bate the—the—the prisidint!" he said, going with him to the corner of the street. "Now, thin, go up the strate straight,—I mean straight up the strate,—turn nayther to the right nor the lift, an whin the strate inds, follow the road up the river, an' be it soon or late ye'll come to Scranton."
"Thank you! Good-by. I'll al'ays remember you."
"Good-by, me lad! an' the saints attind ye!"
They shook hands cordially, and Ralph started up the street on his long journey toward home, while the watchman turned back to his duties, with his heart full of kindness and his eyes full of tears. But he never, never forgot the homeless lad whom he fed and sheltered that autumn night.