th me since we was engaged.
I'll pay her for that after awhile." He walked up and down his room
breathing quick and hard. "I shall risk my neck, I know; but it won't
be the first time, and I never will have such a reason again. She beats
anything I ever saw. I've _got_ to have the money--to suit such a
woman. . . . I'm almost sorry for Sam--but the Lord made some men to be
other men's fools. . . ."

This was the staple of his musings; other things less edifying still
may be omitted.

While he was engaged in this manner he heard a timid knock at his door.
"Another visitor? I'm getting popular," he said, and went to open the
door.

A seedy, forlorn-looking man came in; he took off his shabby hat and
held it under his arm.

He said, "Good-evenin'," in a tone a little above a whisper.

"Well, what's the matter?" asked Offitt.

"Have you heered about Brother Bowersox?"

"Never mind the brothering--that's played out. What is there about
Bowersox?"

"He's dangerous; they don't think he'll live through the night."

"Well, what of it?"

This was not encouraging, but the poor Bread-winner ventured to say, "I
thought some of the Brothers----"

But Offitt closed the subject by a brutal laugh. "The Brothers are
looking out for themselves these times. The less said about the
Brotherhood the better. It's up the spout, do you hear?"

The poor fellow shrunk away into his ragged clothes, and went out with
a submissive "Good-evenin'."

"I'll never found another Brotherhood," Offitt said to himself. "It's
more trouble than it brings in."

It was now growing dark. He took his hat and went down the stairs and
out into the street. He entered a restaurant and ordered a beefsteak,
which he ate, paid for, and departed after a short chat with the
waiter, whom he knew. He went around the corner, entered another
eating-house, called for a cup of coffee and a roll. There also he was
careful to speak with the man who served him, slapping him on the
shoulder with familiarity. He went into a drug store a little later and
bought a glass of soda-water, dropping the glass on the marble floor,
and paying for it after some controversy. He then walked up to Dean
Street. He found the family all together in the sitting-room. He
chatted awhile with them, and asked for Sleeny.

"I don't really know where Sam is. He ain't so reg'lar in his hours as
he used to be," said Saul. "I hope he ain't gettin' wild."

"I hope not," said Offitt, in a to