e tear-ducts so that his eyes swam in a
perennial mist of tears. His wife still called him William, but down
town he was Bill. He knew everybody in town, and everybody in town
knew him. There was a time when he had been on intimate terms with so
distinguished a person as Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene. He will tell you to
this day how he was wont to dandle her on his knee. Bill was one of
those individuals of whom it is said: "He means well." In other words,
he was a do-nothing, a ne'er-do-well. He had been comparatively rich
once, but he had meant well with his money. One grand splurge, and it
was all over. Herculaneum still recollects that splurge. When in his
cups, Bill was always referring to those gorgeous days. Afterward,
Bill and his family lived from hand to mouth. Occasionally, at
Christmas, some of his old friends who felt sorry for him sent him a
purse. Did Bill purchase turkey and coal and potatoes? No, indeed. He
bought useless French toys for the children, who went hungry. Another
time, when heartless winter returned and the price of coal went up, a
church social was arranged for Bill's benefit. It netted him nearly a
hundred dollars. But Bill didn't pay his landlord and grocer; not he!
He came down town the following day with a shiny plug-hat and a
gold-headed cane.

Bill was a first-class genealogist. He could tell you the history of
every leading family in town. It took Bill to expose the new-rich; he
did it handsomely. The way these breakfast millionaires lorded and
landaued it highly amused him. Who were they, anyhow? Coal-heavers,
hod-carriers, stock-speculators, riffraff, who possessed an ounce of
brains and a pound of luck. Why, they didn't even know how to spend
their money when they got it. But what could be expected of people who
put iron dogs and wooden deers on their front lawns? But the
Benningtons, the Haldenes, and the Winterflelds, and the Parkers,--they
had something to brag about. They were Bunker Hillers, they
were; they had always had money and social position. As for the
Millens, and the Deckers, and the McQuades--pah!

Bill had a wonderful memory; he never forgot those who laughed at him
and those who nodded kindly. He was shiftless and lazy, but he had a
code of honor. Bill could have blackmailed many a careless man of
prominence, had he been so minded. But a man who had once dined a
governor of the state could do no wrong. His main fault was that he
had neglected to wean his former greatn