overcrowded cars whizzed past him, ignoring his signals because there
was not an inch of space left in them for another passenger. Then he
fought his way across two or three blocks to the nearest "L" station.
He managed to wedge himself into a train there, and then at least he
was on his way. He was thinking hard and fast, but through all his
planning the warm hug of the tartan comforter round his neck kept
Little Ann near him. He had been very thankful for the additional
warmth as the whirling snow and wind had wrought their will with him
while he waited for the cars at the street corner. On the "L" train
he saw her serious eyes and heard the motherly drop in her voice as
she said, "I do hope you'll be able to keep the page. I do that, Mr.
Tembarom." It made him shut his hands hard as they hung in his
overcoat pockets for warmth, and it made him shut his sound teeth
strongly.

"Gee! I've got to!" his thoughts said for him. "If I make it, perhaps
my luck will have started. When a man's luck gets started, every
darned thing's to the good."

The "L" had dropped most of its crowd when it reached the up-town
station among the hundredth streets which was his destination. He
tightened his comforter, tucked the ends firmly into the front of his
overcoat, and started out along the platform past the office, and
down the steep, iron steps, already perilous with freezing snow. He
had to stop to get his breath when he reached the street, but he did
not stop long. He charged forth again along the pavement, looking
closely at the shop-windows. There were naturally but few passers-by,
and the shops were not important-looking; but they were open, and he
could see that the insides of them looked comfortable in contrast
with the blizzard-ruled street. He could not see both sides of the