ou've
done enough for me."

"Whin did ye ate last?"

"Well, it must 'a' been some after noon yestaday."

The man went to a closet and took down a dinner-pail.

"I've a bit left o' me last-night's dinner," said he; "an' av ye're
the laste bit hungry ye'll not be makin' me carry it home with me." He
had spread a newspaper on the table, and had laid out the pieces of
food upon it.

"Oh, I am hungry!" responded Ralph, looking eagerly over the tempting
array. "I'm very hungry; but you've been too good to me already, an'
you don't know me, either."

The man turned his face toward the door, and stood for a minute
without speaking. Then he said, huskily:--

"Ate it lad, ate it. Bless your sowl, there's a plinty more where that
come from."

The boy needed no further urging. He ate the food with great relish,
while the watchman stood by and looked on approvingly. When the meal
was finished, Ralph said:--

"Now, I'll be a-goin'. I can't never thank you enough. Maybe I can do
sumpthin' for you, some time, but--"

"Howld your tongue, now! Didn't I tell ye not to shpake of it?"

The boy opened the door and looked out upon the dawning day.

"Ain't it nice!" he said. "I can git along splendid in the daylight.
I ain't afraid, but it's awful lonesome in the dark, 'specially when
you're away from home this way."

"An' where do ye be goin' now?" inquired the watchman.

"Home; to Scranton. I can walk there, so long as it's daylight. Oh! I
can git along beautiful now. Which is the bes' way to go?"

The man looked down at him wonderingly for a moment. "Well, ye do bate
the--the--the prisidint!" he said, going with him to the corner of the
street. "Now, thin, go up the strate straight,--I mean straight up the
strate,--turn nayther to the right nor the lift, an whin the strate
inds, follow the road up the river, an' be it soon or late ye'll come
to Scranton."

"Thank you! Good-by. I'll al'ays remember you."

"Good-by, me lad! an' the saints attind ye!"

They shook hands cordially, and Ralph started up the street on his
long journey toward home, while the watchman turned back to his
duties, with his heart full of kindness and his eyes full of tears.
But he never, never forgot the homeless lad whom he fed and sheltered
that autumn night.

CHAPTER IX.

A FRIEND INDEED.

It had been understood, when Ralph went to Wilkesbarre that morning,
that he should return in the afternoon. Bachelor Billy was very much
surp