so long as you're in the
first twenty-five," commented one of the first twenty-five. "You all go
in together."

"Humph!" ejaculated Hurstwood, who had been so sturdily displaced.

"This here Single Tax is the thing," said another. "There ain't going to
be no order till it comes."

For the most part there was silence; gaunt men shuffling, glancing, and
beating their arms.

At last the door opened and the motherly-looking sister appeared. She
only looked an order. Slowly the line moved up and, one by one, passed
in, until twenty-five were counted. Then she interposed a stout arm, and
the line halted, with six men on the steps. Of these the ex-manager was
one. Waiting thus, some talked, some ejaculated concerning the misery of
it; some brooded, as did Hurstwood. At last he was admitted, and, having
eaten, came away, almost angered because of his pains in getting it.

At eleven o'clock of another evening, perhaps two weeks later, he was
at the midnight offering of a loaf--waiting patiently. It had been
an unfortunate day with him, but now he took his fate with a touch of
philosophy. If he could secure no supper, or was hungry late in the
evening, here was a place he could come. A few minutes before twelve,
a great box of bread was pushed out, and exactly on the hour a portly,
round-faced German took position by it, calling "Ready." The whole
line at once moved forward each taking his loaf in turn and going
his separate way. On this occasion, the ex-manager ate his as he went
plodding the dark streets in silence to his bed.

By January he had about concluded that the game was up with him. Life
had always seemed a precious thing, but now constant want and weakened
vitality had made the charms of earth rather dull and inconspicuous.
Several times, when fortune pressed most harshly, he thought he would
end his troubles; but with a change of weather, or the arrival of a
quarter or a dime, his mood would change, and he would wait. Each day he
would find some old paper lying about and look into it, to see if there
was any trace of Carrie, but all summer and fall he had looked in vain.
Then he noticed that his eyes were beginning to hurt him, and this
ailment rapidly increased until, in the dark chambers of the lodgings
he frequented, he did not attempt to read. Bad and irregular eating was
weakening every function of his body. The one recourse left him was to
doze when a place offered and he could get the money to occupy it.