club fer? Hey? w'at ye say,
Joe? Hey?"

"Yes, of course."

"Wish I had a club! Better'n this place to go to. Vail, he used to do a
fellow good. If he'd 'a' lived he'd 'a' pulled me out this yer, would,
you, know. He got 's eyes onto me, and they say when he got 's eyes
onto feller never let go, you know. Done me good. Made me 'shamed. Does
feller good t' be 'shamed, Joe. Don't it? Hey? W'at you say?"

"Yes," said Joe.

"But w'en a feller's lonesome, a young feller, I mean, he's got to have
company if he has to go down to Davy Jones's, and play seven-up with
Ole Nick. Hey, Joe? W'at you say? Hey?"

"I s'pose so," said Joe; "but come, deal, old fellow; don't go to
preachin'."

I have heard Charley say that he never heard anything half so
distinctly in his life as he felt what the apparition said to him when
their eyes met at that moment.

"God and Huckleberry Street want you, Charley."

Charley looked away restively, and then caught the eyes of the ghost
again, and this time the ghost said:

"And they're going to have you, too."

I have heard Charley tell of several other visits they made that night;
but, as I said before, even a Christmas yarn and a ghost story must not
spin itself out, like Banquo's line, to the crack of doom. However true
or authentic a story may be--and you can easily verify this by asking
any member of the Christmas Club in Huckleberry Street--however true a
yarn may be, it must not be so long that it can never be wound up.

The very last of the wretched places they looked in upon was a bare
room in a third story. There was a woman sitting on a box in one
corner, holding a sick child. A man with golden hair was pacing the
floor.

"There's that devil again!" he said, pointing to the blank wall. "Now
he's gone. You see, Carrie, I could quit if I had anybody to help me.
Oh! I heard to night that Charley Vanderhuyn had been elected president
of the Hasheesh. And I saw him an hour ago on a Second Avenue car. I
wish Charley would come and talk to me. He'd give me money, but 'tain't
money. I could make money if I could let whisky alone. I used to love
to hear Charley talk better than to live. I believe it was the ruin of
me. But he don't seem to care for a fellow when his clothes get shabby.
See there!" and he picked up a piece of wood and threw it at the wall,
startling his wife and making the child cry. "I hit him that time! I
wish I could hear Charley Vanderhuyn talk once more. His talk i