begged Van Bibber for a few cents to buy food. "I've come all
the way from Chicago," said the Object, "and I haven't tasted
food for twenty-four hours."

Van Bibber drew away as though the Object had a
contagious disease in his rags, and handed him a quarter
without waiting to receive the man's blessing.

"Poor devil!" said Van Bibber. "Fancy going without
dinner all day!" He could not fancy this, though he tried,
and the impossibility of it impressed him so much that he
amiably determined to go back and hunt up the Object and give
him more money. Van Bibber's ideas of a dinner were rather
exalted. He did not know of places where a quarter was good
for a "square meal," including "one roast, three vegetables,
and pie." He hardly considered a quarter a sufficiently large
tip for the waiter who served the dinner, and decidedly not
enough for the dinner itself. He did not see his man at
first, and when he did the man did not see him. Van Bibber
watched him stop three gentlemen, two of whom gave him some
money, and then the Object approached Van Bibber and repeated
his sad tale in a monotone. He evidently did not recognize
Van Bibber, and the clubman gave him a half-dollar and walked
away, feeling that the man must surely have enough by this
time with which to get something to eat, if only a luncheon.

This retracing of his footsteps had confused Van Bibber,
and he made a complete circuit of the block before he
discovered that he had lost his bearings. He was standing
just where he had started, and gazing along the line of the