he articles of clothing from the
bushes and got down on his knees and began to fold them.

The man of the brown eyes stepped forward, laid down his little book,
picked up the frock-coat and pulled it on, the fat man squealing
expostulation. With serene disregard of this protest Farr buttoned the
coat, smoothed it down, and then straightened his shoulders.

"You may see that it was built for a gentleman and that it fits a
gentleman, friend pork-barrel."

"You shuck it off and pass it over, that's what you do," yelped the
tramp. "It's my coat."

"It was perfectly apparent that it was not your coat when you tried it
on."

"I tell you I found it hanging on a fence-post just above here."

"That was merely by accident, and you should have passed on and left the
garments for one whose frame was fitted to wear them. You illustrate
the curse of modern society. Men are so filled with the greed of getting
that they grab misfits simply out of passion for possessing."

"I've stood your slurs ever since I got here, but I'll be jobeefed if
I'll stand for your swiping my property."

The man of the brown eyes smiled. His whole demeanor showed that he was
more than ever hugely enjoying his own verbosity--the florid language
which was both maddening and mystifying the tramp.

"Further evidence of your mean nature: a gentleman resents an insult
that steals away his character much more quickly than he resents an act
that steals mere property. In that little book which I have just laid
down Shakespeare speaks trenchantly on that matter: 'Who steals my purse
steals trash . . . but he that filches from me my good name robs me . . .
and makes me poor indeed.'"

The tramp gave over his work of folding, and awkwardly and cumbersomely
got upon his feet.

"You take off that coat and hand it over. It's mine--I found it. I can
stand a crazy man's gab, but when any one tries to do me out of what's
my own I'll fight."

"May I ask what you're going to do with these garments of a gentleman
which have fallen into your hands by accident?"

"I'm going to cash 'em in at the nearest second-hand shop, that's just
what I'm going to do."

"Just as you sold the Sunday suit you stole from a poor man! My friend,
I was insulted that day on account of you. You owe me something!"

Just then the alarm-clock purred a brief signal.

Up to that time the air of the man with the brown eyes had been that of
banter, of impish desire to harry and confuse by