There is just that one difference of dealing with them differently.
"It ain't what you _see_, so much as what you can guess is
there," was the thought it brought to the old man who was dusting
it. "Now this frame ain't three feet long, but it wouldn't surprise
me a bit if that timber kept right on for a hundred miles. I kind of
suspect it's on a mountain--looks cool enough in there to be on a
mountain. Wish I was there. Bet they never see no such days as we do
in Chicago. Looks as though a man might call his soul his own--out
there."

He began removing some views of Lincoln Park and some corpulent
Cupids in order to make room in the window for the new picture. When
he went outside to look at it he shook his head severely and
hastened in to take away some ardent young men and women, some fruit
and flowers and fish which he had left thinking they might "set it
off." It was evident that the new picture did not need to be "set
off." "And anyway," he told himself, in vindication of entrusting
all his goods to one bottom, "I might as well take them out, for the
new one makes them look so kind of sick that no one would have them,
anyhow." Then he went back to mounting views with the serenity of
one who stands for the finer things.

His clamorous little clock pointed to a quarter of six when he
finally came back to the front of the store. It was time to begin
closing up for the night, but for the minute he stood there watching
the crowd of workers coming from the business district not far away
over to the boarding-house region, a little to the west. He watched
them as they came by in twos and threes and fours: noisy people and
worn-out people, people hilarious and people sullen, the gaiety and
the weariness, the acceptance and the rebellion of humanity--he saw