"What took her to New York?" asked the farmer whom he addressed.
"She went to take a place in a store," said Rudolph readily, "but she's been taken sick, and she's in the hospital. Poor girl! I'm afraid she'll suffer."
"I'm sorry for you," said the farmer's wife, sympathizingly. "Ephraim, can't we help along this poor man?"
"If we can believe him. There's many impostors about."
"I hope you don't take me for one," said Rudolph, meekly. "Poor Jane; what would she think if she knew how poor father was so misunderstood."
"Poor man! I believe you," said the farmer's wife. "You shall sleep in Jonathan's bed. He's away now."
So Rudolph was provided with two abundant meals and a comfortable bed. The farmer's wife never doubted his story, though she could not help feeling that his looks were not prepossessing. But, was her charitable thought, the poor man can't help his looks.
Of course Rudolph had been in New York often, and his familiar haunts. As a general thing, however, he shunned the city, for he was already known to the police, and he felt that watchful eyes would be upon him as soon as it was known that he was back again.
On the second day he strolled into a low drinking place in the lower part of the city.