questions. Come on home, you big fool."

They had moved but a little way up the street when Thomas stopped.

"Got any dough with you, Annie?" he asked.

Annie looked at him sharply.

"Oh, I know what that look means," said Thomas. "You're wrong. Not
another drop. But there's a guy that was standing next to me in the bed
line over there that's in bad shape. He's the right kind, and he's got
wives or kids or something, and he's on the sick list. No booze. If you
could dig up half a dollar for him so he could get a decent bed I'd like
it."

Annie's fingers began to wiggle in her purse.

"Sure, I've got money," said she. "Lots of it. Twelve dollars." And then
she added, with woman's ineradicable suspicion of vicarious benevolence:
"Bring him here and let me see him first."

Thomas went on his mission. The wan Bed Liner came readily enough. As
the two drew near, Annie looked up from her purse and screamed:

"Mr. Walter-- Oh--Mr. Walter!

"Is that you, Annie?" said the young man meekly.

"Oh, Mr. Walter!--and the Missis hunting high and low for you!"