didn't want anybody, either, who wasn't going
to stay more than five minutes in his cab.

"They've got a sign out at the yards," he finished, "advertising for
hands, and when I run in at noon I'll call up and see what's doing."

Fairfax digested his meal and watched the entrance and exit of the
railroad hands. Nearly all took their breakfast standing at the counter
jollying the girl; only a few brakemen and conductors gave themselves
the luxury of sitting down at the table. Antony went and paid what he
owed at the counter, and found that the waitress had waked up, and, in
spite of the fact that she had doled out coffee and food to some fifty
customers, she had found time to glance at "the new one."

"Was it all right?" she asked.

She handed him the change out of his quarter. He had had a dime's worth
of food.

"Excellent," Fairfax assured her; "first-rate."

Her sleeves came only to the elbow, her fore-arm was firm and white as
milk. Her hands were coarse and red; she was pretty and her cheerfulness
touched him.

He wanted to ask for a wash-up, but he was timid.

"I'll be back at lunchtime," he said to her, nodding, and the girl,
charmed by his smile, asked hesitatingly--

"Workin' here?"

And as Fairfax said "No" rather quickly, she flashed scarlet.

"Excuse me," she murmured.

He was as keen to get out of the restaurant now as he had been to cross
its threshold. The room grew small around him, and he felt himself too
closely confined with these common workmen, with whom for some reason or
other he began to feel a curious fraternity. Once outside the house,
instead of taking his way into the more important part of West Albany,
he retraced his steps down Nut Street, now filled with men and women.
Opposite the gateman's house at the foot of the hill, he saw a sign
hanging in a window, "New York Central Railroad," and under this was a
poster which read, "Men wanted. Apply here between nine and twelve."

Fairfax read the sign over once or twice, and found that it fascinated
him. This brief notice was the only call he had heard for labour, it was
the only invitation given him to make his livelihood since he had come
North. "Men wanted."

He touched the muscles of his right arm, and repeated "Muscles of iron
and a heart of steel." There was nothing said on the sign about
sculptors and artists and men of talent, and poets who saw visions, and
young ardent fellows of good family, who thought the world was at