in order that the son
should be something of a dreamer too. Poetry is but an expression of
life seen through dreams.

His father had been a scholar, risen from the people; his mother had
been gentle. From his seventh year the boy had faced life alone. He
had never gone with the stream but had always found lodgment in the
backwaters. There is no employment quieter, peacefuller than that of a
clerk in a haberdashery. From Mondays till Saturdays, calm; a perfect
environment for a poet. You would be surprised to learn of the vast
army of poets and novelists and dramatists who dispense four-in-hands,
collars, buttons and hosiery six days in the week and who go
a-picnicking on the seventh, provided it does not rain.

Thomas had an idea. It was not a reflection of his lamented father's;
it was wholly his own. He wanted to be loved. His father's idea had
been to love; thus, humanity had laughed him into the grave. So it
will be seen that Thomas' idea was the more sensible of the two.

The voyage was uneventful. Blue day followed blue day. When at length
the great port of New York loomed in the distance, Thomas felt a
thrilling in his spine. Perhaps yonder he might make his fortune; no
matter what else he did, that remained to be accomplished, for he was a
fortune-hunter, of the ancient type; that is, he expected to work for
it. Shore leave would be his, and if during that time he found
nothing, why, he was determined to finish the summer as a steward; and
by fall he would have enough in wages and tips to give him a start in
life. At present he could jingle but seven-and-six in his pocket; and
jingle it frequently he did, to assure himself that it was not wearing
away.

An important tug came bustling alongside. By the yellow flag he knew
that it carried the quarantine officials, inspectors, and a few
privileged citizens. Among others who came aboard Thomas noted a
sturdy thick-chested man in a derby hat--bowler, Thomas called it.
Quietly this man sought the captain and handed him what looked to
Thomas like a cablegram. The captain read it and shook his head.
Thomas overheard a little of their conversation.

"You're welcome to look about, Mr. Haggerty; but I don't think you'll
find the person you seek."

"If you don't mind, I'll take a prowl. Special case, Captain. Mr.
Killigrew thought perhaps I'd see a face I knew."

"Valuable?"

"Fine sapphires. A chance that they may come int' this port. They