ival," Andy said to himself.

"My young friend and I will stay overnight with you," said Robinson.

"All right. Come in."

A door on the left was opened, and Andy saw a sanded floor, and on one
side of the room a bar.

"Go in there a minute," said Robinson, "while I speak to my friend."

Andy went in, and picked up a copy of the _Clipper_ from the table--the
only paper in the room.

In five minutes the two returned.

"I'll take your gripsack," said the man in shirt sleeves. "I will show
you to your room."

They went up two flights of stairs to a room on the third floor. It was
a small apartment about ten feet square, with a double bed in one
corner.

"I guess you'll both be comfortable here," said the landlord.

"I think I would rather have a room to myself," said Andy, by no means
satisfied.

"Sorry we can't accommodate you, but the house is full."

It didn't look so, but then the lodgers might be out.

Andy thought for a moment he would go downstairs, and take a car back to
the central part of the city, but he was afraid his action would seem
strange, and he made no objection.

"I guess we'll get along together," said Robinson, in an easy tone.

Andy didn't think so, but he found it awkward to make objections.

"I will take a wash," he said, seeing that the pitcher on the washstand
contained water.

"All right!" returned Robinson. "Just make yourself at home. I'll go
downstairs. You'll find me there."

Left alone, Andy reproached himself for his too ready yielding to the
plans of his companion. He wondered why he had done so.

"Mr. Crawford didn't ask me to be economical," he reflected. "He is
willing I should pay ordinary prices at a hotel. I think I have been
very foolish. However, I am in for it. It will serve as a lesson to me,
which I will remember hereafter."

He looked out of the window. There was a lot behind the hotel--if it was
a hotel--covered with ashes, tin cans, and other litter.

"I am sure," thought Andy, "this isn't the kind of hotel Mr. Crawford
wished me to stay at."

When he had washed he went downstairs. As he passed the door of the
barroom he saw Mr. Robinson inside, sitting at the table, with a bottle
and a glass before him.

"Come in, Grant, and have some whisky," he said.

"Thank you, but I don't care for whisky."

"Perhaps you would prefer beer?"

"I don't care to drink anything, thank you."

"You don't mean to say you're a temperance crank?"

"Yes, I thin