Chester looked sober. He was shocked by Silas Tripp’s want of humanity.
“You asked me where you could find a bed,” he said. “Come home with me, and I can promise you shelter for one night, at least.”
“Thank you, boy,” said Bruce, grasping Chester’s hand. “You have a heart. But—perhaps your parents might object.”
“I have no father. My mother is always ready to do a kind act.”
“Then I will accept your kind offer. I feared I should have to stay out all night.”
“And without an overcoat,” said Chester, compassionately.
“Yes, I had to part with my overcoat long since. I could not afford such a luxury. I suppose you understand!”
“You sold it?”
“No, I pawned it. I didn’t get much for it—only three dollars, but it would be as easy for me to take the church and move it across the street as to redeem it.”
“You appear to have been unfortunate.”