es for _Truth_, one of which had appeared; but he was getting
along. Just as he was starting for Chicago and Blackwood a second one
was put on the news-stand and he proudly carried a copy of it with him
on the train. It was the Bowery by night, with the L train rushing
overhead and, as reproduced, it had color and life. He felt intensely
proud and knew that Angela would also. She had written him such a
glowing appreciation of the East Side picture called "Six O'clock."

As he rode he dreamed.

He reached it at last, the long stretch between New York and Chicago
traversed; he arrived in the Lake city in the afternoon, and without
pausing to revisit the scenes of his earlier efforts took a five o'clock
train for Blackwood. It was sultry, and on the way heavy thunder clouds
gathered and broke in a short, splendid summer rain. The trees and grass
were thoroughly wet and the dust of the roads was laid. There was a
refreshing coolness about the air which caressed the weary flesh. Little
towns nestling among green trees came into view and passed again, and at
last Blackwood appeared. It was smaller than Alexandria, but not so
different. Like the other it was marked by a church steeple, a saw mill,
a pretty brick business street and many broad branching green trees.
Eugene felt drawn to it at sight. It was such a place as Angela should
live in.

It was seven o'clock and nearing dusk when he arrived. He had not given
Angela the definite hour of his arrival and so decided to stay over
night at the little inn or so-called hotel which he saw up the street.
He had brought only a large suit case and a traveling bag. He inquired
of the proprietor the direction and distance of the Blue house from the
town, found that he could get a vehicle any time in the morning which
would take him over, as the phrase ran, for a dollar. He ate his supper
of fried steak and poor coffee and fried potatoes and then sat out on
the front porch facing the street in a rocking chair, to see how the
village of Blackwood wagged and to enjoy the cool of the evening. As he
sat he thought of Angela's home and how nice it must be. This town was
such a little place--so quiet. There would not be another train coming
up from the city until after eleven.

After a time he rose and took a short walk, breathing the night air.
Later he came back and throwing wide the windows of the stuffy room sat
looking out. The summer night with its early rain, its wet trees, its
s