somewhat weak and ashamed, he left the shop. Elemental sensations
which he could not define thrilled him, and the spirit of Christmas,
now entirely unsatisfied, rested on his soul like an incubus. He began
to feel outside of everything--as though the season had come for every
one but him.

Near Pike Street a little group of the Salvation Army stood on the
curb. One of them was a fat, uncomely woman, and she was singing,
accompanying herself upon a guitar. The music was that of a popular
ballad, and the verses were of rude manufacture.

There were perhaps half a dozen listeners scattered about the sidewalk
at a distance sufficient to prevent possible scoffers from including
them in the service. Two of them were rough workmen, and they stood in
the middle of the sidewalk staring vacantly ahead, trying to look
oblivious. Two longshoremen sat on the curb ten feet away, and a man
and a woman leaned against the door of a near-by warehouse. When the
song was finished the two workmen hurriedly approached and threw
nickels on the face of the big bass drum lying flat on the street,
retreating hastily, as though ashamed; the woman did likewise, and one
of the longshoremen.

"Buying salvation," grinned Dan, as he walked on up the street. But
the pleasantry made inadequate appeal. Every one was getting more out
of the season than he was. Once he drew a dollar from his pocket and
started back. But no. What was a dollar to him? He knew where there
were more. That wasn't it. He put the money in his pocket and walked
on.

Dan's mental processes leading to a determination to help Captain