Things began to look serious. But little was left of his last week's wages, and the time was coming when they would be entirely destitute. Rupert, as he passed through the business district, reflected sadly that while thousands were at work there seemed to be no place and no work for him. He was going down Chambers Street toward the Elevated station when he saw in front of him a young man, perhaps thirty years of age, whose unsteady movements seemed to indicate that he was under the influence of liquor. He came near falling as Rupert neared him.
"Can't I assist you?" asked Rupert, stepping to his side.
The young man glanced at the boy who addressed him with a look of inquiry.
"Yes," he said. "Take my arm."
Rupert did so.
"Where do you wish to go?" he asked.
"I live in Harlem—at One-hundred-and-Seventeenth Street," replied the young man. "Have you a couple of hours to spare?"
"Yes, sir."