Phil introduces the elder Farringford to his Landlady. Page 130.
"My heart is right, my boy. Like all drunkards—Yes, Philip, I'm a drunkard. I know it; and I call things by their right names. Like all drunkards, I've been growing worse and worse; but it's only a few months since I went into the street, and had no home, no place to lay my head at night."
I led him to Mrs. Greenough's house. He said nothing more about the "cheap drink," for I had kept his mind busy on the way. I had a night key, and I admitted him to the entry, where I asked him to wait until I spoke with my landlady. In as few words as possible I informed her of the discovery I had made, and distinctly added that my father was intoxicated.
"Will you allow me to take care of him in my room, Mrs. Greenough?" I asked.
"Yes, indeed!" she replied, with unexpected readiness. "Bring him into the kitchen, and I will do everything I can for him."
"Thank you, Mrs. Greenough. You are very kind. I had no right to expect this of you."
"I know how to pity such poor people, Phil," said she, shaking her head sadly; and I afterwards learned that her late husband had been a drunkard for a number of years, and had been saved by the great Washingtonian movement.
"My father does not yet suspect that I am his son. Will you be so kind as not to mention the fact to him?" I continued.
"Just as you wish, Phil," she answered, as I hastened down stairs.