“You may go up to the room with him, Frank,” said Mr. Whitney. “The clerk will give you the key. I want to see you, Dick, before you go.”
“Yes, sir,” said Dick.
“Where are you going to sleep to-night, Dick?” asked Frank, as they went upstairs together.
“P’r’aps at the Fifth Avenue Hotel—on the outside,” said Dick.
“Haven’t you any place to sleep, then?”
“I slept in a box, last night.”
“In a box?”
“Yes, on Spruce Street.”
“Poor fellow!” said Frank, compassionately.
“Oh, ’twas a bully bed—full of straw! I slept like a top.”