discomposure.

"What's the matter, Harold?" he asked. "You are in the dumps."

"Oh, no," answered Harold, forcing himself to assume a more cheerful
aspect. "I have no reason to feel blue."

"You are only acting, then? I must congratulate you on your success.
You look for all the world like the Knight of the Sorrowful
Countenance."

"Who is he?" asked Harold, who was not literary.

"Don Quixote. Did you never hear of him?"

"No."

"Then your education has been neglected. What are you going to do
to-day?"

"I don't know."

"Suppose we visit a dime museum?"

"All right."

"That is, if you have any money. I am high and dry."

"Yes, I have some money."

They went to a dime museum on Clark Street.

Harold surprised his companion by paying for the two tickets out of a
five-dollar bill.

"You're flush, Harold," said his friend. "Has anybody left you a
fortune?"

"No," answered Harold, uneasily. "I've been saving up money lately."

"You have? Why, I've heard of your being at theaters, playing
billiards, and so on."

"Look here, Robert Greve, I don't see why you need trouble yourself so
much about where I get my money."

"Don't be cranky, Harold," said Robert, good-humoredly, "I won't say
another word. Only I am glad to find my friends in a healthy financial
condition. I only wish I could say the same of myself."

There happened to be a matinee at the Grand Opera House, and Harold
proposed going. First, however, they took a nice lunch at Brockway &
Milan's, a mammoth restaurant on Clark Street, Harold paying the
bill.

As they came out of the theater, Luke Walton chanced to pass.

"Good-afternoon, Harold," he said.

Harold tossed his head, but did not reply.

"Who is that boy--one of your acquaintances?" asked Robert Greve.

"He works for my aunt," answered Harold. "It is like his impudence to
speak to me."

"Why shouldn't he speak to you, if you know him?" said Robert Greve,
who did not share Harold's foolish pride.

"He appears to think he is my equal," continued Harold.

"He seems a nice boy."

"You don't know him as I do. He is a common newsboy."

"Suppose he is; that doesn't hurt him, does it?"

"You don't know what I mean. You don't think a common newsboy fit to
associate with on equal terms, do you?"

Robert Greve laughed.

"You are too high-toned, Harold," he said. "If he is a nice boy, I
don't care what sort of business a friend of mine follows."

"Well, I do," snapped Har