for Dick to do. All that afternoon he continued his search with the
same result--We don't need you. Some, it is true, were kind in their
answers. One old gentleman, a real estate man, Dick felt sure was about
to help him, but he was called away on business, and the poor fellow
went on his weary search again.

Then the whistles blew for six o'clock, and the workmen, their faces
stained with the marks of toil, hurried along the streets toward home;
clerks and business men crowded the restaurants and lunch counters,
the street cars were filled with shoppers going to their evening meal.
Through hungry eyes, Dick watched the throng, wondering what each
worked at during the day and what they would have for supper.

The sun went behind a bank of dull, lead-colored clouds and the wind
sprang up again, so sharp and cold that the citizens turned up the
collars of their coats and drew their wraps about them, while Dick
sought shelter from the chilly blast in an open hallway. Suddenly a
policeman appeared before him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Nothing," answered Dick.

"Wal, ye'd better be doing something. I've had my eye on you all the
afternoon. I'll run ye in if I ketch ye hanging round any more. Get
a move on now." And Dick stepped out on the sidewalk once more to face
the bitter wind.

Walking as rapidly as possible, he made his way north on Broadway,
past the big hotel, all aglow with light and warmth, past the vacant