ive about here." He looked at Eugene solemnly,
taking in his various characteristics. He was not badly impressed. He
seemed to be a reserved, thoughtful, dignified young man and decidedly
artistic. It struck him as very interesting that he should be trying so
radical a thing as day labor for his nerves.

"Let me see," he said thoughtfully. He sat down in his chair near his
table and put his hand over his eyes. "I don't think of anyone just at
the moment. There are plenty of families who have room to take you if
they would, but I question very much whether they would. In fact I'm
rather sure they wouldn't. Let me see now."

He thought again.

Eugene studied his big aquiline nose, his shaggy grey eyebrows, his
thick, crisp, grey hair. Already his mind was sketching him, the desk,
the dim walls, the whole atmosphere of the room.

"No, no," he said slowly. "I don't think of anyone. There is one
family--Mrs. Hibberdell. She lives in the--let me see--first, second,
third, tenth house above here. She has one nephew with her at present, a
young man of about your age, and I don't think anyone else. I don't know
that she would consider taking you in, but she might. Her house is quite
large. She did have her daughter with her at one time, but I'm not sure
that she's there now. I think not."

He talked as though he were reporting his own thoughts to himself
audibly.

Eugene pricked up his ears at the mention of a daughter. During all the
time he had been out of New York he had not, with the exception of
Frieda, had a single opportunity to talk intimately with any girl.
Angela had been with him all the time. Here in New York since he had
been back he had been living under such distressing conditions that he
had not thought of either youth or love. He had no business to be
thinking of it now, but this summer air, this tree-shaded village, the
fact that he had a position, small as it was, on which he could depend
and which would no doubt benefit him mentally, and that he was somehow
feeling better about himself because he was going to work, made him feel
that he might look more interestedly on life again. He was not going to
die; he was going to get well. Finding this position proved it. And he
might go to the house now and find some charming girl who would like him
very much. Angela was away. He was alone. He had again the freedom of
his youth. If he were only well and working!

He thanked the old minister very politely and w