Dick's face grew thoughtful. "I never looked at it in that way before,"
he said, as he took his pipe from his mouth; "It's a big comfort to
a chap who is all alone, though I suppose it does get a strong hold
on a man who has used it most of his life; and a fellow could do a lot
of good with the money it costs him." He arose to his feet and went
to the window, where he stood for a moment looking out into the rain.
Presently he came back to his chair again; "Look out," cried Uncle
Bobbie, as Dick took his seat, "You've dropped your pipe into the coal
bucket."

"Oh, that's all right; its worn-out anyway, and I have another."
But he smoked no more that evening.

"Where are you from?" asked Wicks abruptly.

"Everywhere," answered Dick, shortly, for he did not relish the thought
of being questioned about his past.

"Where you goin'?" came next from his companion.

"Nowhere," just as short.

"Folks livin'?"

"No."

"How long been dead?"

"Since I was a little fellow."