rst few puffs of locomotive smoke
arose as the engine got under way again. Then came the pound, pound,
pound of a multitude of feet as the weary, scurrying passengers made the
turnstiles click continuously. John opened his mouth to call his wares.

"Pa--a--"

A man with a red necktie glanced down at him. The rest of the word
became inaudible. What was the matter with his voice, anyway? There was
nothing to be ashamed of in selling papers. The policeman wouldn't
arrest him. Again he forced a shout, and practiced until he could yell
at the top of his lungs like an old hand at the game.

The last saffron tint of the autumn sun faded from the western sky.
Lights appeared one by one in the windows of the flat buildings and
glistened like jewels in the fast gathering dusk. The store windows on
either side of the street cast brilliant reflections far across the
macadam. The lamplighter, speeding from post to post on a bicycle,
paused long enough to leave a flickering beacon on the corner, then sped
away with his long torch over one shoulder. Trains came and went.
Business men in well-tailored, immaculate suits walked briskly past.
Weak arched clerks with home pressed trousers slouched wearily along.
Chattering women innumerable scurried by on the walk. His dollar watch
showed a quarter past six in the light from the ticket office window and
John counted his papers.

Eleven on hand and five paltry coppers in his right trousers' pocket.
Caught with an overstock! Not only had the prospective profits vanished,
but a deficiency impended as well. He began to understand the cause of
Shultz's question--and supper impended.

He snatched a moment under the light from the street lamp to glance at
the funny sheet, for the excitement of the new occupation had prevented
such amusement earlier in the afternoon. As he unfolded a copy, a
glaring headline on the first page held his attention.

Again the turnstiles clicked, and again came the shifting crowd. But
John Fletcher was not on the station corner to vend his wares. Instead,
that small boy was legging it westward as fast as he could go. Past the
school, past the row of dilapidated houses which lay beyond, past the
plank-walled football grounds and the last of the gray stone,
many-windowed university buildings, into the residence district which he
had marked as his goal.

This section of the city was so far removed from the railroad station
that the inhabitants made use of the slo