I tell you. You'll see. I don't know how I should got along without
this institution, and I tell the manager so, every time I see him.
That's him, hollering 'Next,' out of that room there. It's a name he
gives all of us; he knows it's a name we'll answer to. Don't you
forget it when it comes your turn."

He was younger than Lemuel, apparently, but his swarthy, large-
mouthed, droll eyed face affirmed the experience of a sage. He wore
a blue flannel shirt, with loose trousers belted round his waist,
and he crushed a soft felt hat between his hands; his hair was
clipped close to his skull, and as he rubbed it now and then it gave
out a pleasant rasping sound.

The tramps disappeared in the order of their vicinity to the
manager's door, and it came in time to this boy and Lemuel.

"You come along with me," he said, "and do as I do." When they
entered the presence of the manager, who sat at a desk, Lemuel's
guide nodded to him, and handed over his order for a bed.

"Ever been here before?" asked the manager, as if going through the
form for a joke.

"Never." He took a numbered card which the manager gave him, and
stood aside to wait for Lemuel, who made the same answer to the same
question, and received his numbered card.

"Now," said the young fellow, as they passed out of another door,
"we ain't either of us 'Next,' any more. I'm Thirty-nine, and you're
Forty, and don't you forget it. All right, boss," he called back to