paling to an unwholesome yellow. He
mentioned the circumstance insinuatingly, for he was tired.

Baldwin scowled at his watch, then dropped it into his fresh mug of ale,
and glanced triumphantly about the table.

"A degenerate race," muttered Chalmers. "At the first sign of daylight
we scamper off to bed like scared rabbits. For me--thank God--there's
nothing like the glorious sunrise, the crisp air, the healthy glow.
There's magic in it--Nature's choicest gift. Yes, sir, the splendors of
dawn for me! D'you s'pose I'd miss _this_?" He glared about the room and
ecstatically sniffed the thick, smoky air. "What does that clod know of
beauty?" He indicated a waiter, dozing against the wall with practiced
equilibrium.

"Well, well," exclaimed Baldwin, "if I haven't gone and forgotten to eat
breakfast! How shiftless!" He aroused the waiter with snapping fingers.
"I hope we're not keeping you up, Claude, but bacon and eggs, please,
and coffee."

An hour later they went out to find the street already alive with early
workers. Baldwin appeared to consider that these, also, were night-long
revelers.

"'Stonishing how they can keep it up, night after night," he remarked,
frowning in wonder at the early procession. "You'd think they'd _have_
to sleep some time."

"It'll tell on their nerves sooner or later, you mark my words," said
Griggs sententiously.

Chalmers stared intently into the window of a florist adjoining the
restaurant. He turned to them with purpose in his fair face and spoke
again of his art editor.

"Only trouble with him--he's passed away, poor fellow, and doesn't know
it. He ought to be told--but not brutally. I see something here for
him."

He came out of the florist's presently with a sizable emblem of
mortality--a floral pillow with "Rest" worked on it in immortelles.

"Come on!"

At the corner they crowded into hansoms. It was a long ride, and Ewing
was asleep when they reached Park Row, but they aroused him to help
escort Chalmers and his offering to the elevator of a mighty building.
While they awaited his return Baldwin bethought him of his own art
editor. He seemed to believe that something fitting might be done. After
deep reflection he crossed the narrow street to a district messenger
office, to emerge a moment later followed by eight grinning messenger
boys. These he led to the elevator of another building near by.

Chalmers returned from his own mission, wiping his eyes.

"Poor fellow