About nine o'clock Mark got into the neat bed which was assigned him, and felt that it was more satisfactory even than the cabin of a Brooklyn ferry-boat. He slept peacefully except towards morning, when he dreamed that his old persecutor, Mother Watson, was about to apply the dreaded strap. He woke up terrified, but soon realized with deep satisfaction that he was no longer in her clutches.
CHAPTER XIII.
WHAT BEFELL THE MATCH BOY.
During the next three months Mark made his home at the Lodging House. He was easily able to meet the small charges of the Lodge for bed and breakfast, and saved up ten dollars besides in the bank. Ben Gibson began to look upon him as quite a capitalist.
"I don't see how you save up so much money, Mark," he said. "You don't earn more'n half as much as I do."
"It's because you spend so much, Ben. It costs you considerable for cigars and such things, you know, and then you go to the Old Bowery pretty often."
"A feller must have some fun," said Ben. "They've got a tearin' old play at the Bowery now. You'd better come to-night."
Mark shook his head.