The mouth of an alley between high buildings afforded a retreat and the
breeze blew there fitfully, and Mr. Chick stepped to that oasis of shade
in the glare of sunshine.

"I have been obliged to modify my mission in some degree. I must confess
that to thee," he said. "This is a strange and wicked world."

"Didn't you know it before you gave up a good blacksmith business to go
out in the hot sun and suffer torment, all for nothing?"

"It is very hard work," acknowledged Chick, showing his flushed and
streaming face under his vizor. "If I were not used to the fires of the
forge I think I would fall down and die. But I must keep on."

"But you are simply an advertising-sign."

"I have modified my mission. I have not given up, however. I will tell
thee! I found a man beside the way--a man who had been drinking strong
waters and whose pockets had been turned wrong side out. So I took him
to a tavern and I sat with him through the night, and nursed him when he
suffered, and revealed my mission when he awoke. 'I am out to do good
to all men,' I told him, and he searched through his pockets with
blasphemy, and he said that I had done him--and he haled me before
the court, and the judge said that no man could publicly profess such
disinterestedness and escape suspicion, because people in these days
are all looking for the main chance. So he did not believe me and he
sentenced me to the jail. But a good Samaritan interceded for me and
took me from behind the bars, and now in the spirit of gratitude I am
repaying him; he makes and sells this stove-polish."