and factory. They brought with
them the crumbs and husks of the day's happenings, and these they flung
carelessly before the life-starved Rose and she ate them, gratefully.

They came in with a rush, hungry, fagged, grimed, imperious, smelling of
the city. There was a slamming of doors, a banging of drawers, a clatter
of tongues, quarrelling, laughter. A brief visit to the sick woman's
room. The thin, complaining voice reciting its tale of the day's
discomfort and pain. Then supper.

"Guess who I waited on to-day!" Floss might demand.

Rose, dishing up, would pause, interested. "Who?"

"Gladys Moraine! I knew her the minute she came down the aisle. I saw
her last year when she was playing in 'His Wives.' She's prettier off
than on, I think. I waited on her, and the other girls were wild. She
bought a dozen pairs of white kids, and made me give 'em to her huge, so
she could shove her hand right into 'em, like a man does. Two sizes too
big. All the swells wear 'em that way. And only one ring--an emerald the
size of a dime."

"What'd she wear?" Rose's dull face was almost animated.

"Ah yes!" in a dreamy falsetto from Al, "what _did_ she wear?"

"Oh, shut up, Al! Just a suit, kind of plain, and yet you'd notice it.
And sables! And a Gladys Moraine hat. Everything quiet, and plain, and
dark; and yet she looked like a million dollars. I felt like a roach
while I was waiting on her, though she was awfully sweet to me."

Or perhaps Al, the eel-like, would descend from his heights to mingle a
brief moment in the family talk. Al clerked in the National Cigar
Company's store at Clark and Madison. His was the wisdom of the snake,
the weasel, and the sphinx. A strangely silent young man, this Al,
thin-lipped, smooth-cheeked, perfumed. Slim of waist, flat of hip,
narrow of shoulder, his was the figure of the born fox-trotter. He
walked lightly, on the balls of his feet, like an Indian, but without
the Indian's dignity.

"Some excitement ourselves, to-day, down at the store, believe me. The
Old Man's son started in to learn the retail selling end of the
business. Back of the showcase with the rest of us, waiting on trade,
and looking like a Yale yell."

Pa would put down his paper to stare over his reading specs at Al.

"Mannheim's son! The president!"

"Yep! And I guess he loves it, huh? The Old Man wants him to learn the
business from the ground up. I'll bet he'll never get higher than the
first floor. To-day he went