s. The poor fellows had been working hard all day
on the racecourse, the cricket-ground, at Hurlingham, or in the Park;
some had been to the Royal Academy, and on their faces was a pleasant
look: "Ah, God is good--we can rest at last!" And many of them had had
no lunch, hoping to keep their weights down, and many who had lunched
had not done themselves as well as might be hoped, and some had done
themselves too well; but in all their hearts the trust burned bright
that they might do themselves better at dinner, for their God was good,
and dwelt between the kitchen and the cellar of the Stoics' Club. And
all--for all had poetry in their souls--looked forward to those hours
in paradise when, with cigars between their lips, good wine below, they
might dream the daily dream that comes to all true Stoics for about
fifteen shillings or even less, all told.

From a little back slum, within two stones' throw of the god of the
Stoics' Club, there had come out two seamstresses to take the air; one
was in consumption, having neglected to earn enough to feed herself
properly for some years past, and the other looked as if she would be
in consumption shortly, for the same reason. They stood on the pavement,
watching the cabs drive up. Some of the Stoics saw them and thought:
'Poor girls! they look awfully bad.' Three or four said to themselves:
"It oughtn't to be allowed. I mean, it's so painful to see; and it's not
as if one could do anything. They're not beggars, don't you know, and so
what can one do?"

But most of the Stoics did not look at them at all, feeling that their
soft hearts could not stand these painful sights, and anxious not to
spoil their dinners. Gregory did not see them either, for it so happened
that he was looking at the sky, and just then the two girls crossed the
road and were lost among the passers-by, for they were not dogs, who
could smell out the kind of man he was.

"Mr. Pendyce is in the club; I will send your name up, sir." And rolling
a little, as though Gregory's name were heavy, the porter gave it to the
boy, who went away with it.

Gregory stood by the empty hearth and waited, and while he waited,
nothing struck him at all, for the Stoics seemed very natural, just mere
men like himself, except that their clothes were better, which made him
think: 'I shouldn't care to belong here and have to dress for dinner
every night.'

"Mr. Pendyce is very sorry, sir, but he's engaged."

Gregory bit his li