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 trains to New England, "clerked it" in Boston, and come to New York as help to a baggage-man on a passenger-boat. Here, fascinated by the life of the "Rialto"—which satisfied all his restless cravings for Bohemianism and continual change—he had lived in the background of the stage world, a looker-on, playing "thinking parts" in Broadway theatres, sometimes assisting in stage management in the cheaper houses and sometimes returning to the ticket wicket of a box office. Lately he had had a "run of bad luck," and he had been left for the summer with nothing to do but this "boosting" and "spieling" at Coney Island or on the Bowery. He had been going the round of the employment agencies on the morning he met Don, afraid that in his work at the musees he might meet his brother. "As soon as the theatrical season opens," he said, "I'll be all right."

"It's mighty hard to find work, isn't it?" Don sympathized.

"Why, no!" he replied. "I never had any trouble in finding something. The fact of the matter is, I believe that has been the curse of me. I found out how easy it was to get along at a certain level and how hard it was to get above it—and I have stopped at merely getting along."

He gave it in his gentle voice that had for Don such a fascinating note of wisdom and experience; and Don felt that here was a man who could solve all his problems for him. He tried to put in words the effect which the Bowery had had on him and the questions which it had aroused in him; and "Tower" listened