tables. Seated within an inclosure were a number of prisoners, dull
and listless looking. One by one they stepped up before the railing
and faced the judge; there would be a few muttered words and they
would move on. Everything went as a matter of routine, which had been
going that way for ages. The judge, who was elderly and gray haired,
looked like a prosperous business man in a masquerade costume.

Samuel's turn came and he stood before the bar. His name was read, and
the charge--vagrancy.

"Well?" said the judge mechanically. "What have you to say for
yourself?"

Samuel caught his breath. "It's not my fault, sir," he began.

"Your honor," prompted the policeman who stood at his elbow.

"Your honor," said Samuel, "I lost all my money. And I've been trying
to find work, your honor."

"Have you any friends in town?"

"No, your honor."

"How long have you been here?"

"Only since yesterday, your honor."

"How did you get here?"