is face was refined, and had that look of
calmness which now and again follows some great storm of mind and rack
of body. The skin was drawn tightly over the cheek bones, making the
eyes seem disproportionately large in their sunken sockets. His mouth
and chin were strong, and the prominent, slightly hooked nose gave the
clean-shaven face a sternness which contrasted rather oddly with his
abundant light-yellow hair.

He closed the door, moved to the table, and seated himself at it near
the centre of the room. Almost every eye had been fixed upon him as he
entered, but no greetings were given, and the interest in the newcomer
flagged the moment he opened a book and began to read.

"Who is he?" I ventured to ask my neighbour.

"Schrieber," he replied, and then in a bored tone, as though remembering
my greenness--"the fellow who's been talkin' at the lodgin'-houses for
the last two weeks or so--at the 'Crescent,' and the 'Owl,' and the
'American,' and all of 'em."

I desisted from asking the further questions that immediately suggested
themselves, for my informant turned his back on me and rested his head
on the table, as though to discourage further conversation.

"Here comes Bill Nevins," announced the man opposite, but just whom he
addressed could not be gathered from the faces around me. His remark,
however, referred to an individual who entered with a "Howdy!" directed
to the room in general.

"Cold morning, boys!" he exclaimed, as he walked towards the stove
rubbing his hands together.

No one responded, but this did not seem to affect the speaker, who stood
smiling cheerfully at the crowd, with his back to the red-hot stove. A
healthy, well-fed, kindly-looking man, with vigour in his limbs and
character in his genial face, he looked like some good-natured priest
or head-groom.

"What's the news, Bill?" called out a man with his chair tipped against
the wall.

"Well, they strike to-morrow at noon, unless the companies concede
something, but, as everybody knows they won't, I might just as well
say--they strike to-morrow at noon."

The voice was clear and the tone cheery, though decisive. All the
newspapers seemed to have been drained of their contents, for everyone
was staring at the speaker--some with interest, others listlessly. But
no answer or comment greeted the news.--The silence was solemn or
absurd--one scarcely knew which.

"And as this strike's on," continued Nevins, "the question for us
is--w