d heap.

"I really believe that I was on the point of cheating myself," he said,
soberly. "That argues a shameful flabbiness of the moral fibre, doesn't
it? A 'brace' game of solitaire! What a hideous picture of degeneracy!"

"Lay it on the weather," I suggested. "These gray November days with
their depressing atmosphere of finality may be held responsible for
anything."

"Even my own pet extremity--the upsetting of an apple-cart. Really, I'm
getting dangerously close to it. Let's go out for a walk."

Now, why did Tito Cecco, dealer in small fruits, choose this precise
day and hour to halt his barrow at our corner? Push-carts are not
allowed in Madison Avenue, anyway, and five minutes earlier or later he
would have been moved on by the policeman on the beat. But in that mean
time Esper Indiman and I had left the house. The cart piled high with
red and yellow apples confronted us, and a dangerous glint came into
Indiman's eye.

"Indiman!" I implored.

Too late! With the mischievous agility of a boy, Indiman seized the hub
of the near wheel and heaved it into the air. A little ripple of apples
swept across the asphalt roadway, then a veritable cascade of the
fruit. The light push-cart lay bottom up, its wheels revolving feebly.
Tito Cecco had become incapable of either speech or motion. Then he
caught the glimmer of the gold piece in Indiman's fingers, and grabbed
at it eagerly.

It is a poor sort of catastrophe that does not attract the attention of
at least one pair of youthful eyes, and the vultures are famous for
their punctuality in the matter of invitations to dinner. Where did all
the boys come from, anyway; the street was jammed with them, and
reinforcements were constantly arriving. Tito Cecco, having pouched
Indiman's gold piece and righted his cart, had hastily departed. He had
made a good thing out of the transaction, and explanations to policemen
are awkward things--always so.

The pile of fruit had disappeared with incredible swiftness, but the
boys themselves departed slowly, as though reluctant to leave a region
of such extraordinary windfalls. One little chap had fared particularly
well, for both his coat-pockets were stuffed and each fist grabbed a
big specimen of the beautiful fruit. A young fellow, fresh-faced and
country-looking, had been looking at the scene from a little distance
down the street. Now he walked up and spoke to the small boy.

"Give you a nickel, bub, for one of the red one