Sam Kimper stayed awake all that night, although his manners to his
family next morning were those of a staid and respectable citizen who
had nothing upon his mind but the ordinary duties of the day.

Nevertheless, he was out and about soon after breakfast, and he
wandered through every street of the village in which any business was
being done. Again and again he asked for work, and as often the offer
was refused or declined or relegated into the uncertain future for a
decision. The surplus in his pocket had grown lamentably small. As he
made his way homeward in a physical and mental condition which made it
impossible for him either to argue to himself or to express a sense of
hope to any extent, he passed the shop of Larry Highgetty. Larry was a
shoemaker. Sam had worked at shoemaking while he was in State prison.
He felt, although Larry might have been offended at the imputation,
that there ought to be a fellow-feeling between them; so he ventured
into the shop. Larry was sitting at his bench with a lady's shoe in one
hand and with his head leaning against the wall of the room. From the
stertorous noise which escaped his nostrils, it was quite evident that
he was asleep, and an odor which filled the room left the visitor in
no doubt as to the nature of the opiate which had induced Larry's
mid-day nap.

"You seem to be takin' business very easy, Mr. Highgetty," said Sam,
with an apologetic air, as he closed the door behind him, and Larry
awoke. "Pay must be gettin' better?"

"Better?" said Larry, rubbing his eyes. "I don't want it to be any
better than it is now. Besides, people's comin' in all the time faster
than I can tend to 'em; ev'rybody wants his work done first an' is