“Only this once,” pleaded the poor old woman. “I’ve got a headache.”
“Then another cup of tea would only make it worse. If you’ve got through your supper, go back to your seat and give more room for the rest.”
While Mrs. Tucker was badgering and domineering over her regular boarders, her husband put two slices of dry bread on a plate, poured out a cup of tea, not strong enough to keep the most delicate child awake, and surreptitiously provided an extra luxury in the shape of a thin slice of cold meat. He felt that, as he was to receive double price, he ought to deal generously by our hero.
He carried this luxurious supper to the third story, and set it down before Philip.
Philip promptly produced a dime, which Mr. Tucker pocketed with satisfaction. He waited till his young guest had finished his repast, in order himself to carry down the dishes.
There was no butter for the bread, and the tea had been sweetened scantily. However, Philip had the appetite of a healthy boy, and he ate and drank everything that had been provided.
“I’ll be up in the morning,” said Mr. Tucker. “We go to bed early here. The paupers go to roost at seven, and me and my wife and Zeke at eight. You’d better go to bed early, too.”
CHAPTER XIII.
A FRIENDLY MISSION.
Philip was glad to hear that all in the almshouse went to bed so early. He had not yet given up the hope of escaping that night, though he had as yet arranged no definite plan of escape.
Meanwhile, he had an active friend outside. I refer, of course, to Frank Dunbar. Frank had no sooner heard of his friend’s captivity than he instantly determined, if it were a possible thing, to help him to escape.