had been doing. He returned to
the reading, however, after the boy had gone out. He read "Don't Blow
out the Gas," without feeling it an impertinence, and went over to read
the code of signals posted above the bell punch.

RING ONCE FOR BELL BOY.
RING TWICE FOR ICE WATER.
RING THREE FOR FIRE.
RING FOUR FOR CHAMBERMAID.

His mind went off in a pursuit of trivial matters concerning this code.
What would happen if he rang three times--which he thought stood for
alarm of fire. In imagination he heard the outcries throughout the
various floors and rooms of the house. Then his mind went back to the
fact that the boy was not allowed to ride in the elevator. He wondered
if this touch of southern feeling would ever get any farther north. For
the first time in his life he had met the question of caste.

He went down to supper, as he called it himself, in the dining-room,
which he found to be a very large and splendid apartment. A waiter in a
dress coat (he had never seen a live figure in a dress coat before) met
him at the door, and with elaborate authority called another darkey, in
a similar dress coat, to show him to a chair.

The second darkey led his way down the polished floor (which Bradley
walked with difficulty), his coat tails wagging in a curious fashion,
by reason of the action of his bow legs. He was obliged to take the
uncomprehending Bradley by the arm, while he shoved the chair under
him; but he did it so courteously that no one noticed it. He was
accustomed to give this silent instruction in ceremonials. Bradley
noticed that, notwithstanding the splendor of his shirt-front, collar
and dress-coat, his shoes were badly broken, though highly polished.

A man sat at the opposite side of the table reading a paper over his
coffee. He attracted Bradley's attention because he had a scowl on his
face, and his hair was tumbled picturesquely about his forehead. Even
his brown moustache contrived to have an oddly dishevelled look.

They ate in silence for some time, or rather Bradley did; the other man
read and sipped his coffee, and continued to frown and swear under his
breath. At length he burst forth in a suppressed exclamation: "Well,
I'll be damned." When he looked at Bradley, his eyes were friendly, and
he seemed to require some one to talk to.

"These devilish railroads will own the country, body and breeches yet."

"What are they up to now?" said Bradley.

"They've secured Joe Manley as the