t as he sat down to write
the letter. They had taunted him, had they? They had scoffed at him. But
he was going where they might never go, and some day he would come back
holding his head high and pay them sneer for sneer and jibe for jibe.

The same night the commission was given to the furniture dealer who
would take charge of their things and sell them when and for what he
could.

From his window the next morning Maurice Oakley watched the wagon
emptying the house. Then he saw Fannie come out and walk about her
little garden, followed by her children. He saw her as she wiped her
eyes and led the way to the side gate.

"Well, they 're gone," he said to his wife. "I wonder where they 're
going to live?"

"Oh, some of their people will take them in," replied Mrs. Oakley
languidly.

Despite the fact that his mother carried with her the rest of the money
drawn from the bank, Joe had suddenly stepped into the place of the man
of the family. He attended to all the details of their getting away with
a promptness that made it seem untrue that he had never been more than
thirty miles from his native town. He was eager and excited. As the
train drew out of the station, he did not look back upon the place which
he hated, but Fannie and her daughter let their eyes linger upon it
until the last house, the last chimney, and the last spire faded from
their sight, and their tears fell and mingled as they were whirled away
toward the unknown.

VII

IN NEW YORK

To the provincial coming to New York for the first time, ignorant and
unknown, the city presents a notable mingling of the qualities of
cheeriness and gloom. If he have any eye at all for the beautiful, he
cannot help experiencing a thrill as he crosses the ferry over the river
filled with plying craft and catches the first sight of the spires and
buildings of New York. If he have the right stuff in him, a something
will take possession of him that will grip him again every time he
returns to the scene and will make him long and hunger for the place
when he is away from it. Later, the lights in the busy streets will
bewilder and entice him. He will feel shy and helpless amid the hurrying
crowds. A new emotion will take his heart as the people hasten by
him,--a feeling of loneliness, almost of grief, that with all of these
souls about him he knows not one and not one of them cares for him.
After a while he will find a place and give a sigh of relief as he
set