an
named Freshmayer, who looked upon the earth as a sterile promontory.

Hopkins, unknown in the store, entered and called genially for his
"bunch of spinach, car-fare grade." This imputation deepened the
pessimism of Freshmayer; but he set out a brand that came perilously
near to filling the order. Hopkins bit off the roots of his purchase,
and lighted up at the swinging gas jet. Feeling in his pockets to
make payment, he found not a penny there.

"Say, my friend," he explained, frankly, "I've come out without any
change. Hand you that nickel first time I pass."

Joy surged in Freshmayer's heart. Here was corroboration of his
belief that the world was rotten and man a peripatetic evil. Without
a word he rounded the end of his counter and made earnest onslaught
upon his customer. Hopkins was no man to serve as a punching-bag for
a pessimistic tobacconist. He quickly bestowed upon Freshmayer a
colorado-maduro eye in return for the ardent kick that he received
from that dealer in goods for cash only.

The impetus of the enemy's attack forced the Hopkins line back to
the sidewalk. There the conflict raged; the pacific wooden Indian,
with his carven smile, was overturned, and those of the street who
delighted in carnage pressed round to view the zealous joust.

But then came the inevitable cop and imminent inconvenience for both
the attacker and attacked. John Hopkins was a peaceful citizen, who
worked at rebuses of nights in a flat, but he was not without the
fundamental spirit of resistance that comes with the battle-rage.
He knocked the policeman into a grocer's sidewalk display of goods
and gave Freshmayer a punch that caused him temporarily to regret
that he had not made it a rule to extend a five-cent line of credit
to certain customers. Then Hopkins took spiritedly to his heels down
the sidewalk, closely followed by the cigar-dealer and the policeman,
whose uniform testified to the reason in the grocer's sign that read:
"Eggs cheaper than anywhere else in the city."

As Hopkins ran he became aware of a big, low, red, racing automobile
that kept abreast of him in the street. This auto steered in to the
side of the sidewalk, and the man guiding it motioned to Hopkins
to jump into it. He did so without slackening his speed, and fell
into the turkey-red upholstered seat beside the chauffeur. The big
machine, with a diminuendo cough, flew away like an albatross down
the avenue into which the street emptied.

The