act patient, without makin'
any mad dash for a seat at stations, but hangin' on and watchin' the
crowds shift sort of curious. You might as well, you know; for if you do
get a chance to camp down durin' the rush hours, along comes some fat
lady and stands puffin' in front of you, or a thin, tired lookin' one
who glares at you over the top of your paper. But if you're a standee
yourself you feel free to look any of 'em in the eye.

And, say, ain't we a glum, peevish, sour lookin' lot, here in New York?
You'd most think that showin' any signs of good nature was violatin' a
city ordinance, and that all our dispositions had been treated with
acetic acid. Why, by the suspicious looks we give the stranger who rubs
elbows with us, you might suppose our population was ninety per cent.
escaped criminals.

As the idea struck me I may have loosened my mouth corners a little, or
may not. Anyway, as we pulls into 72d-st., and the wild scramble to
catch a packed express begins, I finds myself gazin' absentminded at
this slim, stoop-shouldered gent in the corner. Next thing I know he's
smilin' friendly and pointin' to a vacant seat alongside.

First off, of course, I thinks he must be someone I've met casual and
forgot; but as I slides in beside him and gets a closer view I know that
he's one of the ninety-odd millions of unfortunates who, up to date,
ain't had the benefit of my acquaintance. In other words, he's one of
the common suspects, an utter stranger.

Course, as far as his looks go, he might be a perfect gent. He's dressed
neat and plain, except for the brown spats; but as you run across a spat
wearer only now and then, you're bound to guess they ain't just right
somewhere. The sallow-complected face with the prominent cheekbones
don't count so much against him. Them points are common. What caught me,
though, was the lively brown eyes with just the hint of a twinkle in
'em. Always does. I know some like the wide-set, stary kind that go with
an open-faced smile and a loud haw-haw; but for me the quiet chuckle and
the twinklin' eye! Still, he hadn't proved yet that he wa'n't a
pickpocket or a wife beater; so I just nods non-committal over my
shoulder and resumes my usual aristocratic reserve.

"How does it happen," says he, "that you aren't on your way to the
funeral too?"

"Eh?" says I, a little jarred at this odd openin'.

"Or is it that they have all been indulgin' in family rows? Look at
them!" he goes on, wavin' h