He decided to give up selling for the day and headed to the distribution office. He would turn in the nineteen papers that he couldn't sell and get his money back. It had been some three months since the famous newsie strike and working conditions were much better. Mr. Weasel, the man who was in charge of distribution, had been carted away by the cops. A much nicer, fairer man named Mr. Johnson replaced him. Newspaper Alley was comparatively empty with only one or two other newsies hanging around, both of which he didn't know. Holden figured that they were all indoors where everyone else with good sense could be found. Mr. Johnson reimbursed him for the nineteen papers and he took off in the direction of the lodging house to warm up. The house was home to all the Manhattan newsies and was run by an elderly man named Kloppman. The wind was blowing harder and the snow swirled around him making vision almost impossible. Finally, fighting the elements the entire way, he was home and glad to be there. He pushed the doors open and was immediately welcomed by the wonderful heat that the building provided. He gave Kloppman a quick hello and bounded up the stairs. The main room where the bunk beds where located was filled with newsies. There were groups of them playing cards and smoking, some where trying to sleep, and a couple like him were trying to get warm. When he entered the room two of the boys' playing cards stopped and greeted him. " Hey, London! You been trying to sell papes in this kinda weather?!?" That came from Racetrack a proficient gambler. Race especially loved to bet on horses, hence his name. Holden answered back, " Yeah, I was tryin." A boy with a black eye patch shouted," London, where ya been?" Holden replied," Been selling papers of course, Blink." Once all the hellos died down he made his way to his bunk bed. He climbed up to the top bunk and took off his wet shoes. He shared the bunk with his best friend Mush who slept on the bottom. It took a few minutes for him to properly thaw out and when he felt warm enough he joined one of the poker games. He wasn't particularly that good at the game it was just something to pass the time. After three games all of which he lost his friend Mush walked in. His lips were blue, he was shivering violently, and he was coatless. Holden jumped up, grabbed his still drying overcoat and gave it to Mush. " Where's your coat?" he demanded. Mush gave him a sheepish look and shrugged his shoulders. " You mean you lost your coat!" Holden yelled once again. Mush shook his head no and finally spoke up," I gave it away. It didn't feel so cold earlier and I met this girl... she looked so cold...." This made him think guiltily of the house girl and his anger died down. Mush muttered," Sorry, London" Holden felt bad and told him," Don't worry. You can have mine. I got enough money to get another one." Mush thanked him and joined a poker game still wearing his coat. The newsies had given him the name London years ago when he first joined their ranks. He had come to Ellis Island with his father from England. The newsies had found his accent funny and so named him London, even though he had never lived there.
He discovered that he was thoroughly exhausted and decided to call it a day. Not even bothering to change clothes he slipped into bed and pulled the thin sheets around him. It wasn't long before he was fast asleep. The sounds of loud thumping, banging, and yelling brought him back to consciousness. Holden rubbed his eyes and sat up looking around to see who was making all the noise. The other newsies had confused expressions on their faces as well. The banging got louder as the person neared the door of their room. To everyone's utmost amazement Spot Conlon burst inside. He was breathing heavily and his eyes blazed. He was covered with snow and his face looked as though he had suffered from serious windburn. Spot was the leader of the Brooklyn newsies and he often visited them but never in such a state of anger. He usually came to talk to Jack, their leader, but Jack was away visiting his friend David Jacobs. Race stood up, because he was the appointed leader in Jack's absence, and said," Hello Spot, for what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" Conlon took another step into the room and the newsies cleared a path for him. He yelled loudly, " Which one of you... you goons decked my sister?!??" The look on the Manhattan newsies had changed from confusion to fright and back to confusion again in less than three minutes. It was news to everyone that Spot had a sister. Race spoke up again, " Well maybe if we knew her name? I don't that us respectable gentlemen would ever mistreat a lady. Would we guys." Their was a chorus of no's and certainly nots. Conlon glared at Race who was obviously pushing his luck and said a shade more quietly, " Her name is Sunday and somebody here gave her a split lip." Holden groaned upon hearing the last bit of information and lay as flat as he could against the bed. Now was not the time to mess the Brooklyn leader, and he was still so tired. He heard the angry boy yell, " I ain't going nowhere until somebody tells me something." Holden sighed, but knew what he had to do. He would just give it over with so he could sleep. He sat up and hopped off the bed. " Alright, alright give it a rest Conlon. It was me okay, but the whole thing was an accident really." He would have gone into detail but Spot came running at him.