in had entered the tunnel. Through the checkered darkness, he
made his way back; his flat, square package under his arm, to the
other car, where all was in the confusion of preparation for arrival.
The pale little mother of the wriggling boy looked up, as he entered.

"Thank you, sir," she began; "it was very kind in you--"

"Not at all, madam; the boy would have been much better without it,"
Flint answered. The art of being thanked gracefully is a difficult
one, and Flint had never acquired it.

The train came to a standstill with a jerk which, but for Flint's hand
put out to steady her, would have thrown the pale little woman to the
floor. He stopped at the car-steps, lifted her and her bundles, her
boy and her bird-cage, to the platform, then, touching his hat
hurriedly, as if in nervous fear of being thanked again, he made off
at full speed to the outlet, where his ears were greeted with the
familiar sounds of--

"Cab, sir? Cab? Cab? Have a cab?" which sounded like the chorus of a
Chinese opera. "No, I won't have a cab, unless you intend to treat me
to a free ride," Flint remarked, ironically, to the nearest applicant,
and then swung himself aboard the yellow car at the corner.

As it made its way downtown, he was struck with the strangeness which
the city had assumed, after so short an absence. It did not look like
New York at all; and he could not remember noticing before how large
a part of the population lived on the street. It reminded him of
Naples. He was forced to admit, too, that it had a certain charm of
its own,--a charm which deepened as he reached "The Chancellor," the
bachelor apartment-house which did duty for a home to a score of
unmarried men. He was met by the janitor with a cordiality born of the
remembrance of many past gratuities. Yes, his telegram ("wire," the
man in uniform called it) had been received, and his rooms were in
order. He pulled out his latch-key and turned it in the lock. The door
opened on an interior pleasantly familiar, yet piquantly removed from
the dulness of every-day acquaintance. The matting was agreeable to
his foot. The green bronze Narcissus in the corner beckoned
invitingly; above all, the porcelain tub in the bath-room beyond, with
its unlimited supply of water, and sybaritic variety of towels,
appealed to him irresistibly. Into it he plunged with all despatch,
and emerged more cheerful, as well as less begrimed.

An hour later, clad in fresh linen, white vest,