I put him in about as tough a lodging as I could get, for I wanted
him to realize the life he would drift into, told him to meet me at one
o'clock the next day, and said good-night to him.
The next day I met him; we had something to eat, and I asked him how he
had slept. "Oh," he said, "it was something awful! I could not sleep
any, there was such a cursing and drinking and scrapping. Oh, I wish I
was home!"
We went up to Washington Heights, around 165th Street, and found the
place. We got there about six o'clock. I went in and knocked at the
door, which opened very quickly. The mother and father came forward;
they had been crying, I could see that. "Oh, has anything happened to my
boy!" she cried, when I asked if she had a son. "Tell me quick, for
God's sake!" I told them that Eddie was all right, and I called to him.
He came in, and like a manly boy, after kissing his mother, he turned to
his stepfather and said, "Forgive me; I'll be a better boy and I'll
make everything all right when I get a job. This is Mr. Ranney, the
Bowery missionary." I went in and was asked to stay for supper, and we
had an earnest talk, leading to the father giving up beer.
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