just the right temperature," and he took a sip of that innocent
beverage. "Don't you suppose we could prevail upon the old lady
to renig?"

"She's bound to put us off with half rations for the rest of
the time she stays," declared Crackit, shaking his head wisely.
"She's got nothing to lose now. She don't care if we all up and
leave--after she gets hers."

"That's always the way," feebly remarked Mr. Peebles. "Just as
soon as I really get settled down into a half-decent lodging,
something happens."

Mr. Peebles had been a fixture at Mother Atterson's for nearly
ten years. Only Old Lem Camp had been longer at the place.

The latter was the only boarder who had no adverse criticism
for the mistress's new move. Indeed this evening Mr. Camp said
nothing whatever; even his usual mumblings to himself were not
heard.

He ate slowly, and but little. He was still sitting at the table
when all the others had departed.

Mrs. Atterson started into the dining-room with her own supper
between two plates when she saw the old man sitting there
despondent in looks and attitude, his head resting on one
clawlike hand, his elbow on the soiled table cloth.

He did not look up, nor move. The mistress glanced back over