that’s in a bad shape. He’s the right kind, and he’s got wives or kids or something, and he’s on the sick list. No booze. If you could dig up half a dollar for him so he could get a decent bed I’d like it.”
Annie’s fingers began to wiggle in her purse.
“Sure, I’ve got money,” said she. “Lots of it. Twelve dollars.” And then she added, with woman’s ineradicable suspicion of vicarious benevolence: “Bring him here and let me see him first.”
Thomas went on his mission. The wan Bed Liner came readily enough. As the two drew near, Annie looked up from her purse and screamed:
“Mr. Walter—Oh—Mr. Walter!”
“Is that you, Annie?” said the young man weakly.
“Oh, Mr. Walter!—and the Missis hunting high and low for you!”
“Does mother want to see me?” he asked, with a flush coming out on his pale cheek.
“She’s been hunting for you high and low. Sure, she wants to see you. She wants you to come home. She’s tried police and morgues and lawyers and advertising and detectives and rewards and everything. And then she took up clearvoyants. You’ll go right home, won’t you, Mr. Walter?”
“Gladly, if she wants me,” said the young man. “Three years is a long time. I suppose I’ll have to walk up, though, unless the street cars are giving free rides. I used to walk and beat that old plug team of bays
