“I had a disagreeable thing happen last evening. Who should appear to me on Madison Avenue but the old man.”
“Your father?”
“Yes; he left a good, comfortable home up in the country, and came here to see if he couldn’t get some money out of me.”
“Did he?”
“I gave him a quarter and advised him to go back. He seems to think I am made of money.”
“So he has a comfortable home?”
“Yes,” answered Ralston, hesitating slightly. “He’s better off than I am in one way. He has no board to pay, and sometimes I haven’t money to pay mine.”
“I suppose he is staying with friends or relatives,” said Mullins, who was not aware that Mr. Ralston, senior, was the inmate of a poorhouse.
“It is an arrangement I made for him. I felt angry to see him here, and I told him so. However, he isn’t likely to come again. Have you heard from Fairchild yet?”
“No; it isn’t time. He won’t reach Chicago till this evening or to-morrow morning.”