I don't know's he's what you call a bosom friend, and, as for his sleepin' nights--well, I never heard he couldn't do that, after he went to bed.
But, anyhow, you saw wood, or bones, or whatever you have to do, and leave the rest to me.

And don't tell Caroline or anybody else a word." The Moriartys lived in a four-room flat on the East Side, uptown, and his visits there gave the captain a glimpse of another sort of New York life, as different from that of Central Park West as could well be imagined.

The old man, Patrick, his wife, Margaret, the unmarried son, Dennis, who worked in the gas house, and five other children of various ages were hived somehow in those four small rooms and Captain Elisha marveled greatly thereat.
"For the land sakes, ma'am," he asked of the nurse, "how do they do it?
Where do they put 'em nights?
That--that closet in there's the pantry and woodshed and kitchen and dinin' room; and that one's the settin' room and parlor; and them two dry-goods boxes with doors to 'em are bedrooms.

There's eight livin' critters to stow away when it's time to turn in, and one whole bed's took up by the patient.

_Where_ do they put the rest?
Hang 'em up on nails ?" The nurse laughed.