A caller had just come stumbling in out of the November murk, half blind
with weariness and unhappiness and general discouragement. Brown had
welcomed him heartily.

"It's nothing in particular," growled the other man, presently, "and it's
everything. I'm down and out."

"Lost your job?"

"No, but I'm going to lose it."

"How do you know?"

"Every thing points that way."

"What, for instance?"

"Oh--I can't tell you, so you'd understand."

"Am I so thick-headed?" Brown asked the question seriously. His eyes,
keen, yet full of sympathetic interest, rested inquiringly upon his
caller's face.

"It's in the air, that's all I can say. I wouldn't be surprised to be
fired any minute--after eight years' service. And--it's got on my nerves
so I can't do decent work, even to keep up my own self-respect till I do
go. And what I'm to do afterward--"

Brown was silent, looking into the fire. His caller shifted in his chair;