gone
while I was intent upon its contents. Anyway, he'd disappeared when I
looked up, but the odour of whisky in the room was strong enough to
destroy any interest I might have felt in my late supper companion.

Whisky and "that tired feeling" are mainly responsible for the army of
the "unemployed." They talk about there not being enough work to go
around! One good job'd last the whole shiftless lot a year. They don't
want work, they want help--permanent and increasing help.

Some such thoughts occupied me until I happened to see a telegram
protruding from the bundle of unopened letters on my desk.

"Gods and powers! Will that triple idiot never learn to separate the
telegrams from the letters? What the devil--Junkin! Junkin!" I crashed
the bell with each repetition of the fool's name, at the same time
tearing open the yellow envelope.

"For God's sake, Junkin, how many times must you be told to keep these
things separate? Half an hour gone, and here's this cipher still
untranslated. Do you think you've nothing to do but draw your
salary----"

"I'm sorry, Sir, but you see these men came----"

"Quick, get the code and translate--don't stand around arguing! Here,
give me the book!"

I rushed into the outer office, but stopped almost at the threshold
of my door. The room was completely encircled by a line of men, and
every eye in the crowd was turned upon me. What a motley throng it
was--shabbily dressed and unshaven for the most part--untidy to the
point of dirtiness. Hardly a bright, healthy face among the lot--surly
and ill-tempered looking many of them. Bah! I don't like humanity in the
abstract, and loathe it in the concrete of crowds. My disgust must have
been apparent, and my thought audible as I said:

"Now, my men, the place is filled. You'd better all clear out."

But my words, forbidding as they were, did not free me.

"No, I haven't any other job. No, I don't expect to have any.... Yes,
well, I can't help it, can I?... Of course, I know--don't bother me! I
tell you the place is gone.... No, we never have any places in this
office.... Charity Organisation, Twenty-third Street and Fourth
Avenue.... Yes, yes, yes, I don't doubt it, but I tell you I've filled
the job--Junkin--get the janitor and clear the room--they'll drive me
mad!"

Almost frenzied, I rushed back to my private office.

How I was worked that day! The Section Traction Company almost caught us
napping, and they'd have done it surely i