Margaret Cameron

“ That must be one of the hardest things there is, don't you think so?"
"Is it?" asked Jean, in a little, choked voice.
The waitress brought their order and spread the dishes before them.
"You haven't brought me any bread," said Carrington.
"We don't give bread with cakes and syrup. Bread's extra. Want some?"
"No. Never mind."
Before Jean could proffer part of hers, the man opposite, glancing furtively at the three inattentive girls in black, said, in an embarrassed undertone:
"Say, young man, you—you take some of these biscuits. I ain't going to eat all of 'em, honest! ”

“ I shall find food—enough."
"Food for thought?" she swiftly questioned, in nervous effort to second his attempt at humor and give the conversation a lighter, more careless aspect. Then, to cover the impulsive suggestion and the lack of poise that it betrayed, she hurried on into further mazes. "Or perhaps you mean thought for food? At any rate," hastily, "I doubt if you would find it sustaining, and I certainly cannot deprive you of your last penny." ”

“ My appetite ain't real good to-night, and I'd hate to see good steak like that wasted."
"Oh, take it!" whispered Jean, looking with suddenly misted eyes from his earnest face to Carrington's clouded one, and the younger man, after an instant's hesitation, perceived that acceptance would be the only adequate return for such an offer.
"That's right! Us old fellows get where we don't care so much about food, but I used to miss it a good deal when I was your age, and—rations was sort o' short, this way." ”

“ I suppose there's as many kinds o' trouble as there's kinds o' people to make it, and nobody knows which kind would be hardest for somebody else. I've had a good many kinds myself, one time and another, but I never had any yet that got me down and kept me down. But then," thoughtfully. "I've never had to stand disgrace—for myself or my boys. That must be hard!" Jean's lips tightened and Carrington looked sternly into space. ”

“ You've been very kind. Thank you—and good night."
"Please!" he begged. "You can't go to the theatre alone."
"I prefer to."
"And you've had no dinner. Oh, I quite understand," bitterly, as she made a quick, protesting gesture, "that you would not dine with me. But surely you'll not forbid me, as Sawyer's friend, to see, florist, that you have something to eat, and, later, that you join his party safely at the theatre?"
"I certainly shall not permit you to pawn—anything—in order that I may dine." Her very lips were stiff. "Anyway, I don't—need any dinner."
"Pardon me, you do need dinner. ”

“ The other's eyes widened in astonishment. "Me? Oh, you mean the steak and biscuits!" He laughed genially. "I guess you never were broke before! You pay that back to some other fellow who's in the same fix some day. That 'll be all right."
When they had parted from John King, Carrington asked:
"And now, dear, shall we go up to the theatre and borrow money from Jim Sawyer to get home on?"
"Oh no! I don't want to see people—yet," she said, a little catch in her voice. "Let's—let's go and pawn your watch!" ”

“ An immaculately white-clad waitress paused behind them, but at a word from Carrington passed on.
"We ought to save a tip for the girl," said he. "I'll go without pie, and we'll give her five cents. Or—I'll tell you! Here's a 'side order of beans with any of the above for five cents.' Now, you order one of the above,' I'll take the beans, and we'll give the girl the difference."
"Fie on your mathematics!" she retorted. "All 'the above' are very, very expensive. 'Fried or broiled ham' is the cheapest, and that is twenty cents. Beans would make it twenty-five, and—you see? ”

“ You know that, don't you?" to Carrington.
"Yes," the younger man returned, somewhat grimly, "I know that."
"'Tain't real convenient—being broke," continued the other, sagely smiling. "I guess mebbe you're finding that out too. But you're both young, and you've got each other, so, after all, what do you care?"
"Obviously," said Jean, with a hard little laugh, "we don't care at all."
"That's right. Anybody can see you don't. You just make a joke of it, and go on having your good times together, anyhow. ”

“ The other nodded reminiscently, shrewdly adding, "You two ain't used to it, though."
"No," Carrington admitted; "we—I'm not. Not yet." He shot a glance at Jean, expecting to find traces of annoyance in her face, but she was regarding the man with mocking eyes and an odd, wry little smile.
A small steak, a tiny dish of French fried potatoes, and a plate of hot tea-biscuits were placed before their neighbor.
"I wanted to tell you when you were ordering," he said, looking at Jean, "that you got potatoes and biscuits with steak. I thought mebbe you didn't know." ”

“ When you've travelled a long way and look back, most of the hard times are like valleys in a picture. They sort o' drop out o' sight, and it's the good times that stand up and show. Now, when you're on your feet again, you won't think much about how it hurt to fall down, but you'll remember that when the two of you only had forty cents for your dinner, he wanted to spend twenty-five or thirty of it on you."
"Oh, undoubtedly! But you do him an injustice. He wanted to give me the whole forty."
Illustration: "THIS WOMAN, WHO MIGHT HAVE SAVED HIM, TRIED TO BRIBE HIM"
"Well, there you are! ”

“ He divided his small steak, with a queer, half-deprecating glance at the couple opposite, and put part of it carefully aside on the biscuit-plate. "Oh, well," he then observed, "worse things might happen to you than just being broke. ”