had slipped automatically into his trousers pocket.
Then, for once in his charitable life, he hesitated, since the pocket
contained nothing but a ten-dollar bill, and that was all the money he
had in the world with which to meet a pressing note of ten thousand. His
hesitation lasted only a moment. He laughed and stuffed the ten-dollar
bill into the cup, and said:

"For old acquaintance' sake."

The beggar studied the young man's face. Then he said: "Mr. Allen, I
once had the honor to warn you against three things."

"I remember."

"Your face is innocent of wine and women. How about the gambling?"

"My friend," said Wilmot, "you read me like a book. The gambling is all
to the bad. I have just given you all the money I had in the world."

"A few dollars are of no use to me," said the beggar.

"Nor to me. Don't worry."

"I am not worrying. I'm thinking that you and I have something in
common. And for that reason I am tempted to ask if a few thousand would
be of any use to you?"

Wilmot smiled with engaging candor. "Fifteen thousand would."

"You shall have them," said the beggar shortly. He pointed to a glazed
door across which was printed in gilt letters:

BLIZZARD--MFR. HATS

"That," said the beggar, "is my name, and that is my place of business.
Come in."

Wilmot followed the beggar through the glass door, which at opening and
closing caused a bell to clang. The front of the establishment was
occupied by a dust-ridden salesroom, and an office with yellow-pine
partitions. As he followed the beggar into this, Wilmot caught a glimpse
in the distance of fifteen or twenty young girls who sat at a long table
industriously plaiting straw hats. He lifted his own hat a little
mechanically, and thought that he had never seen so many pretty girls at
one time under one roof.

II

Wilmot buttoned his coat over fifteen one-thousand-dollar bills. Only
supreme necessity could have persuaded him to take them, since, although
he had not put his name to a paper of any kind, he felt a little as if
he had sold himself to the devil. But Blizzard had shown him no
deviltry; only kindness and a certain whimsicality of speech and a point
of view that was engaging.

The transaction finished, Wilmot was for leaving, but being under
obligation to the legless man was at pains not to be abrupt. He lingered
then a little, and they talked.

"The first time we met," said the beggar, "you were roller-skating with
a pr