ndred and ten dollars. "Come with me to the
bank," said Henry.

"Nearly all you Chicago men are rich," remarked the toy merchant as
they walked along. "I've had a notion to sell out and move there
myself. Chicago's reaching out after everything, and New Orleans is
doing more and more trading with her every year. I bought a good many
of these toys from a Chicago drummer. He sells everything--represents
a concern called the Colossus."

Henry settled for the toys, and then continued his stroll about the
city. A strange sadness depressed him. The old woman's words--"and
broke her heart, folks said"--rang in his ears. Had he been born as a
mere incident of nature, or was it intended that he should achieve
something? Was he an accident or was he designed? When he thought of
his mother, his heart bled; but to think of his father made it beat
with anger. When he became a member of the Witherspoon family, his
conscience had constantly plied him with questions until, worn with
self-argument, he resolved to accept a part of the advantages that
were thrust upon him. Why not all? What sense had he shown in his
obstinacy? What honor had he served? Why should he desire to reserve a
part of a former self? Fortune had not favored his birth, but accident
had thrown him in the way to be rich and therefore powerful. Accident!
What could be more of an accident than life itself? Then came the last
sting. The woman whom he loved, should she become his wife, would
never know her name; his children--but how vain and foolish was such a
questioning. Was his name worth preserving? Should he not rejoice in
the thought that he had thrown it off? He stopped on a corner and
stood in an old doorway, where he had blacked shoes. "George
Witherspoon is right, and I have been a fool," he said. "Nature
despises the weak. I will be rich--I am rich."

There was no half-heartedness now. His manner changed; there was
arrogance in his step. Rich--powerful! The world had been his enemy
and he had blacked its shoes. Now it should be his servant, and with a
lordly contempt he would tip it for its services.

He turned into a restaurant, and in a masterful and overbearing way
ordered his dinner. He looked at a man and mused: "He puts on airs,
the fool! I could buy him."

Several men who had been sitting at a table got up to go out. One of
them pointed at a ragged fellow who, some distance back, was down on
his knees scrubbing the floor. "Zeb, see that man?"