The Landloper

eltering individual-a piece of gruesome news and

ation over his shoulder while waiting for t

row of tenement-houses, all identical in structure and squalor, bearing the ma

irway with a greasy handrail invited him. The key bore a number. He hunted till he found a room, far up, flight after flight. Through o

ng to lug a bobbin," Farr informed himse

stared at him with

en he opened the door i

and closed and locke

roof, and the ceiling slanted across it so sharply that the yo

ittle playthings were scattered about her: a doll fashioned from gingham and cotton-waste, makeshift dishes of pasteboard, a doll-carriage made from a broken flower-basket with spools for wheels. The man who entered saw all with one glance and understood that h

g the best shift she could with those pitiable playthings, something came up from that man's breast into hi

robably she had never seen any face co

how to deal with this frightened child. He di

smi

d Etienne. It was such a smile as the man had never smiled before-and he realized it. He did not want to smile. He wanted to w

nter, of irony and insolence. But the strange glory that now glowed upon his features came

smi

n kind. And slowly upon the child's face an answering smile began to dawn-little crinkles at the corners of the drooping mouth, little flickerings in

ord-he dared not

ees cautiously, her sm

rag doll. It was as if she had pledged her faith in him. He danced the doll upon his broad palm, a

ient to satisfy the sudden queer craving. The knowledge of the hopeless helplessness of that little girl throbbed through him. The memory of the spectacle of what he had left on

me and nestled confidingly against him. She couldn't see his face then, and he allowed the tears of a strong man who is ove

n in his philosopher's style, but he did realize that

in a creaky rocking-chair and crooned under his breath, and was astonished to find that she had gone soun

e workers were returning. The beehive was filling. Ther

n in the house-whether she had relatives-how s

position was made of chil

eant more of this horrible tenement life. The child in his arms w

s for the reception of the homeless, but it seemed to him that such

at fetid, overcrowded babel of a tenement. Where? He did not know. He hunted to find her belongings. He found a few clothes. There was no receptacle in which he could pack them. He folded them and crowded the articles in his pockets. He stuffed in the doll and the rude playthings and hooked the basket doll-carriage upon his arm. She did not w

rtain he became as to what disposal he should make of her, or else

e first time. "Me is te'bble h

m something to eat. I reckon I must have thought I had picked up an angel." To her he said, smoothing her hair with his free hand. "We'll have sumpi

st night lunch-cart. He

lete and rueful knowledge as to the extent of his resources, he ordered a bowl of

ourself?" inqui

refulness, fed the bread and milk to her with a spoon. A healthy man's hunger gnawed within him and the savor of coffee from the big, bubbling urn tantalized

in one who prowled with a child in his arms. The child began to whimper softly. Her interest in the stranger who had won her with a smile, her slumber in his

taken upon himself the custody of this mite, so trifling a weight in his arms, but now resting-a giant of a burden-on his responsibility? He did not know. He owned up to that ig

t be able to find a refuge-an institution that time of night

ared up into the dim, mysterious, rustling foliage of the tree for a long time. She patted her hands upon the grass as if it were something she had never seen or felt before. She seemed to be making her first acquaintance with Mother Nature-claiming the heritage of outdoors that children so intensely covet. The sloped ceiling and the walls of the a

d down the tree, funny bugs that tumbled, robins who bounced along the sward on stiff legs-that she did not

s rake and pike-pole at six o'clock, the hour when the gr

ound her in the room

pallor and pathos of this little snipped wh

hey? You found

ienne. I have not been inclined to put myself out for anybody in this world-man,

are. But the poor man should care-he should

een awake all night-I have been thinking-I had nothing else to do. Insomnia has made me insane-one night of it!" He laughed when the old m

'll

ly crazy-I'm going to work-e

r by-she have leetle hou

s the

used, raised a brown finger, then went on. "But you shall not know where she live onless I may pay half the board money f

olve in old Etienn

into his arms. "Give me the address and hand her over the fence to me. I'll have to quit being nurse and find a real job. By the way, Etienne, I heard a fat m

e stood-and he waved his rake reassuringly from a distance when the good woman came to the door, answering Farr's knock. He danced into the house with

child upon the table where the good woman was making fresh cookies. He piled the little toys about her. "I'm going to market, to market to buy a fat pig, and I'll be home again, riggy-jig-jig," he declared in a singso

h other men on a rattling jigger-wagon. By being very humble, and with the aid of his smile, he succeeded in begging a corned-beef sandwi

as large as fishing-poles. How the sun did beat into that trench! But Walker Farr threw off his coat and used again his ready asset-his smile. He smiled at the boss who sneered at the style of "fi

lark," reflected Walker Farr as he toiled in the hot trench. And he stopped quizzing hims