"'No,' he rejoined, heartlessly; 'on the whole, I don't want you. Get out and walk the street, or try someone else.'
"'Then lend me some money. I'll go to a hotel.'
"'If I had any money, do you think I should be sleeping here, to-night?'
"'I suppose not,' I sighed. 'Well, I think I'll go. You won't help me?'
"'Not this night,' he said, grimly. 'Get out! But I don't want you to gabble about where you found me sleeping.'
"I left him, deeply grieved by his meanness, which I ascribed to an old jealousy of the years gone by, when he had been attentive to the unmarried Mrs. Milner, and had found me in his way. I had not thought he would have cherished this spite through the years, but, resolved never to ask a favor again, I left him, and went out into the street. Finally, unable to think of another resource, I sought the nearest square, and put in a cold and miserable night on a bench, with vagrants, beggars, and outcasts for company.
"At daylight, I rose and wandered slowly back toward the studio building, to await the down-coming of my charge.
"At the door I met a disheveled, weary, and bleary-eyed wreck, who eyed me sourly, and broke forth.
"'You're a nice sort of duffer, you are,' he said. 'You knew I was drunk. You knew I didn't know what key I gave you. Why didn't you make sure? I couldn't get into my boarding-house. I walked the street all night.'
"'You did!' I responded. 'You walked the street all night, did you? Oh, I'm so glad! I'm so glad, Bunker! You walked the street, did you? Well, I slept in the square—thanks to your condition, you unholy inebriate!'