It was almost five o'clock, and knowing Dan would soon be on hand with Gimpwell to open the stand, he walked slowly in that direction. To keep up his courage he tried to whistle, but the effort was a dismal failure. Walter was naturally very light-hearted, but just now no one looking at his troubled face would have suspected this. Reaching the stand, he opened the shutters and put out the light which he had forgotten to extinguish. Soon the first bundles of papers came along, and he sorted them over and arranged them for sale and for Dan's route. The work was almost done when the carrier came along, followed immediately by the new clerk. "Hullo, I didn't know you'd be here!" cried Dan. "Why didn't you come home last night? Mother expected you to use the room, and you paid for it." "I wish I had used the room," answered Walter, and went over his tale in a few words, for Dan must be off, to serve several men with newspapers before they themselves started off to their daily labors. "Say, but that's too bad!" cried the errand boy. "I've got two dollars, Walter. You can have the money if it will do you any good." "Thanks, Dan, I want to see Mr. Newell first. But it's kind of you to make the offer." "I'd offer you something, Russell," put in the new clerk. "But the fact is I haven't even car-fare; had to tramp over from Charlestown." Phil Newell put into appearance shortly before seven o'clock, coming a little earlier than usual, to see that Gimpwell got along all right. Calling him aside, Walter told of what had happened. He was getting sick of telling the story, but, in this case, there was no help for it. "Douse the toplights, but you've run on a sunken rock, and no mistake, Walter," cried the old naval veteran. "So he cleaned you out completely, eh?" "Yes, Mr. Newell. I don't care so much for the money, but that order for the railroad ticket--" "It's too had; too bad!" Phil Newell ran his hand through his bushy hair. "I don't believe the navy-yard authorities will issue a duplicate order." "Neither do I." "You see, some sailors wouldn't be none too good for to get such a paper and then sell it for what she would fetch." "Yes, that's the worst part of it. I shouldn't want them to think I was--was getting in on them--or trying to do so." "The best thing to do, as far as I can see, is to call on Caleb Walton and get his advice." "Where does he live?" "In Charlestown, only a few blocks from the Bunker Hill monument. I don't know the number, but it's on Hill Street, and I know the house." "Will you go with me? If I haven't the number--" "To be sure I'll go with you, just as soon as I can set the new clerk on his proper course." "And, Mr. Newell, would you mind--that is, would you make me a--a loan--" faltered Walter. "Out with it, my boy, how much do you want? I told you before I'd be your friend, and what Phil Newell says he means, every trip."