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 did it as delicately and heartily as any caliph could have done. And when it came to the point, the youth turned to him, soft-voiced and with his undiminished smile.

“I don’t want to seem unappreciative, old man,” he said, with a youth’s somewhat too-early spontaneity of address, “but, you see, I can’t accept anything from a stranger. I know you’re all right, and I’m tremendously obliged, but I could n’t think of borrowing from anybody. You see, I’m Marcus Clayton—the Claytons of Roanoke County, Virginia, you know. The young lady is Miss Eva Bedford—I reckon you’ve heard of the Bedfords. She’s seventeen, and one of the Bedfords of Bedford County. We’ve eloped from home to get married, and we wanted to see New York. We got in this afternoon. Somebody got my pocketbook on the ferryboat, and I had only three cents in change outside of it. I’ll get some work somewhere to-morrow, and we’ll get married.”

“But, I say, old man,” said Pilkins, in confidential low tones, “you can’t keep the lady out here in the cold all night. Now, as for hotels”

“I told you,” said the youth, with a broader smile, “that I didn’t have but three cents. Besides, if I had a thousand, we’d have to wait here until morning. You can understand that, of course. I’m much obliged, but I can’t take any of your money. Miss Bedford and I have lived an outdoor life, and we don’t mind a little cold. I’ll get work of some kind to-morrow. We’ve got a paper bag of cakes and chocolates, and well get along all right.”