er time a friend of his mother's
did likewise. But for the most part, ten- and fifteen-cent fees were his
lot.

Rifts in the misty clouds to the west appeared, which hinted of an end
to the rain. Nevertheless, he jingled the change in his pocket
light-heartedly. He had made more in the brief eighty minutes than he
could cutting the Langley's lawn, or by other juvenile chores which
would consume a like time. And, if he were fortunate, there was still
time for another customer before the storm ceased.

He found her. She was dressed in some rustling brown taffeta stuff and
carried her hat in a carefully pinned page of newspaper. Her face was
sunken and lined and rouged to lessen the ravages of age, and her hair
was palpably mismatched. Moreover, instinct warned that his offer would
be refused, for she was one of the tall, skinny folks. Nevertheless, he
approached her.

"Umbrella home, lady? Can I take you home under an umbrella?"

He could. Instantly all criticism of her personal appearance vanished.
True, she might be trying to keep up appearances like the old-maid
teacher who scolded knowledge into the eighth-grade class, but she was
willing to spend money for his benefit, and that made all the difference
in the world.

Past the hotel they went, and down the five long, successive blocks of
gray stone university buildings which flanked that side of the
boulevard. John's spirits rose. His last was to be a quarter customer,
at the least. Then they turned southward and dodged pools of water in
the muddy street crossings and on the walks for another two squares. She
halted at a grimy, run-down apartment building and closed the umbrella.
Thirty-five cents! He opened his mouth to name the fee, but she
interrupted him.

"Here's the umbrella, little boy." She stepped into the stuffy,
badly-lighted hallway. "Thank you very much for taking me home."

Before he could say a word of protest, the weather-beaten oak door swung
to in his face and the lady fled up the stairs.

When he had recovered from his surprise, he stamped angrily in after
her. What should he do? He wanted that money. He didn't care if she had
disappeared. He'd ring the bell and keep on ringing it until she
answered or the batteries gave out. But which bell? The building was
four-storied, with flats front and rear, and which of the cramped
apartments did she occupy? And there were dozens of roomers' cards over
the dusty speaking tubes. To find her was impos