life--perhaps what broadened, educated, and made him wiser.




CHAPTER XV.

THE STRANGE WORLD.

One night Harlson, with a great appetite, as usual,--for he had not
eaten since his scant breakfast,--went out to get his supper. It was
not dinner, for he never, at that time, dined. He had in his pocket
twenty cents. The next day he would get his usual weekly stipend. He
would spend fifteen cents, he thought, upon his supper, then return to
the office to sleep, and would have five cents remaining for the
morning meal. That would do to buy buns with, and he would endure what
stomach clamor might come until evening, when he would be a capitalist,
and riot in all he could eat, even though he doubled a cheap order.

So he reasoned, as he went down the garish street, and looked right and
left for some new restaurant, for he chanced to want a change. One's
love for cheap restaurants is not perpetual. A mild illuminated sign
over a small building attracted his attention. It had the aspect of
what would be cheap, but clean.

Harlson entered the place and found what he had looked for. There was
the small front room with scattered tables, the partition at the back,
reaching but half way to the ceiling, with the usual curtained door,
and there was no one in the room. He took a seat beside one of the
tables and there waited. He had not long to wait. The curtains parted