Feeling like a sneak I followed him, and when we had reached his sitting-room, he sat down and said,
"Kid, how much were you in on that deal?"
"Just one dollar," I replied.
Then he looked at me, his eyes shone like coals of fire, and he said,
"Look here boy, here's ten dollars. If you are ever hard up and want money come to me, and I'll give it to you willingly, but don't you ever let me see or hear of you staking a cent on a card again. I'm running a gambling house, and as gambling houses go, it's an honest one, but I'm not out plucking lambs like you. Your intentions were probably good but don't you ever do it again. If you really want to show your gratitude for what I have done for you, promise me honestly that you will never gamble."
I felt very much humiliated, but took his words of advice, promised, and have never flipped a coin on a card since that night.
Bill was a married man, and in addition to his suite of rooms spoken of, he had a very nice residence on Capitol Hill. His suite was a side issue, to be used when the games were running high. I had never met Mrs. Bradley, but during my illness I had evidence every day of her goodness in the shape of many delicacies that found their way to my bedside. I had asked Bill time and again to take me out to meet his wife, but he always put me off on one pretext or another.
When I started to work, I had secured a room at the house of a Mrs. Slade. She had three daughters and one Sunday afternoon we were all out walking together, when one of them pointed to a very fine residence and said, "That's the residence of Bill Bradley, the big gambler."
Just then Bill and his wife came driving by behind a spanking team of bays. Quick as a flash my hat came off, and I bowed low. Bill saw it and very cavalierly returned my salute. The elder Miss Slade turned on me like a tigress, and said,
"Mr. Bates, do you know who that man is? Do you know what he is?"