up in the air and
tore to pieces before he ever knew what struck him. The boss came in and
seen it, and the second question he asked, he says, 'Say, is the
machinery running all right?' It wasn't ten minutes before there was
another man in there doing the dead man's work."

I began to undo the lunch-box, feeling very little inclined to eat. We
divided the contents, and my friend, seeing perhaps that I was
depressed, told me about the "shows" he had been to in his wanderings.

"Now, I don't care as much for comedy as some folks," he explained. "I
like 'Puddin' Head Wilson' first rate, but the finest thing I ever seen
was two of Shakespeare's: 'The Merchant of Venice' and 'Julius Caesar.'
If you ever get a chance I advise you to go and hear them; they're
great."

I responded cordially, and when we had exhausted Shakespeare I asked
him how he liked Perry people.

"Oh, first rate," he said. "I've been here only a month, but I think
there's too much formality. It seems to me that when you work alongside
of a girl day after day you might speak to her without an introduction,
but they won't let you here. I never seen such a formal place."

I said very little. The boy talked on of his life and experiences. His
English was good except for certain grammatical errors. His words were
well chosen. There was between him and the fortunate boys of a superior
class only a few years of training.

The box social was the beginning of a round of gaieties. The following
night I went with my box-social friend to a ball. Neither of us danced,
but we arrived early and took good places for looking on. The barren
hall was dimly lighted. In the corner there was a stove; at one end a
stage. An old man with a chin beard was scattering sand over the floor
with a springtime gesture of seed sowing. He had his hat on and his coat
collar turned up, as though to indicate that the party had not begun. By
and by the stage curtain rolled up and the musicians came out and
unpacked a violin, a trombone, a flute and a drum. They sat down in the
Medieval street painted on the scenery back of them, crossed their legs
and asked for _sol la_ from an esthetic young lady pianist, with whom
they seemed on very familiar terms. The old man with the chin beard made
an official _entree_ from the wing, picked up the drum and became a part
of the orchestra. The subscribers had begun to arrive, and when the
first two-step struck up there were eight or ten couples on t