k
streets"--(I have forgotten the address)--"to-morrow morning. You know
where that burned building is, and I'll put you to work tossing
bricks."

"All right, sir; I'll be there."

He grunted and went on eating. I waited. After a couple of minutes he
looked up with an I-thought-you-were-gone expression on his face, and
demanded:--

"Well?"

"I ... I am waiting for something to eat," I said gently.

"I knew you wouldn't work!" he roared.

He was right, of course; but his conclusion must have been reached by
mind-reading, for his logic wouldn't bear it out. But the beggar at
the door must be humble, so I accepted his logic as I had accepted his
morality.

"You see, I am now hungry," I said still gently. "To-morrow morning I
shall be hungrier. Think how hungry I shall be when I have tossed
bricks all day without anything to eat. Now if you will give me
something to eat, I'll be in great shape for those bricks."

He gravely considered my plea, at the same time going on eating, while
his wife nearly trembled into propitiatory speech, but refrained.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," he said between mouthfuls. "You come to
work to-morrow, and in the middle of the day I'll advance you enough
for your dinner. That will show whether you are in earnest or not."

"In the meantime--" I began; but he interrupted.

"If I gave you something to eat now, I'd never see you again. Oh, I
know your kind. Look at me. I owe no man. I have never descended so
low as to ask any one for food. I have always earned my food. The
trouble with you is that you are idle and dissolute. I can see it in
your face. I have worked and been honest. I have made myself what I
am. And you can do the same, if you work and are honest."

"Like you?" I queried.

Alas, no ray of humor had ever penetrated the sombre work-sodden soul
of that man.

"Yes, like me," he answered.

"All of us?" I queried.

"Yes, all of you," he answered, conviction vibrating in his voice.

"But if we all became like you," I said, "allow me to point out that
there'd be nobody to toss bricks for you."

I swear there was a flicker of a smile in his wife's eye. As for him,
he was aghast--but whether at the awful possibility of a reformed
humanity that would not enable him to get anybody to toss bricks for
him, or at my impudence, I shall never know.

"I'll not waste words on you," he roared. "Get out of here, you
ungrateful whelp!"

I scraped my feet to advertise my inten