y and filled
in the details. I became that poor boy. I believed in him as I
believed in the beautiful eggs I was devouring. I could have wept for
myself. I know the tears did get into my voice at times. It was very
effective.

In fact, with every touch I added to the picture, that kind soul gave
me something also. She made up a lunch for me to carry away. She put
in many boiled eggs, pepper and salt, and other things, and a big
apple. She provided me with three pairs of thick red woollen socks.
She gave me clean handkerchiefs and other things which I have since
forgotten. And all the time she cooked more and more and I ate more
and more. I gorged like a savage; but then it was a far cry across the
Sierras on a blind baggage, and I knew not when nor where I should
find my next meal. And all the while, like a death's-head at the
feast, silent and motionless, her own unfortunate boy sat and stared
at me across the table. I suppose I represented to him mystery, and
romance, and adventure--all that was denied the feeble flicker of life
that was in him. And yet I could not forbear, once or twice, from
wondering if he saw through me down to the bottom of my mendacious
heart.

"But where are you going to?" she asked me.

"Salt Lake City," said I. "I have a sister there--a married sister."
(I debated if I should make a Mormon out of her, and decided against
it.) "Her husband is a plumber--a contracting plumber."

Now I knew that contracting plumbers were usually credited with making
lots of money. But I had spoken. It was up to me to qualify.

"They would have sent me the money for my fare if I had asked for it,"
I explained, "but they have had sickness and business troubles. His
partner cheated him. And so I wouldn't write for the money. I knew I
could make my way there somehow. I let them think I had enough to get
me to Salt Lake City. She is lovely, and so kind. She was always kind
to me. I guess I'll go into the shop and learn the trade. She has two
daughters. They are younger than I. One is only a baby."

Of all my married sisters that I have distributed among the cities of
the United States, that Salt Lake sister is my favorite. She is quite
real, too. When I tell about her, I can see her, and her two little
girls, and her plumber husband. She is a large, motherly woman, just
verging on beneficent stoutness--the kind, you know, that always cooks
nice things and that never gets angry. She is a brunette. Her husband