The sky had suddenly clouded over, and there were portents of a coming shower. Betty looked at the clouds, and resolved to make one more attempt to bestow her charity, and if that failed she concluded she must throw away the box. As Dorothy had said, she couldn’t very well walk into a large hotel carrying a box of luncheon. It would look ridiculous. And even if she did have to throw it away, she had the satisfaction of knowing she had tried to utilize it. The drops began to fall, but they were large and scattered, so Betty thought she had time for one more attempt at her good work before she ran for shelter. A poor-looking man came toward her, and Betty stopped him. She had become timid about the box by this time, so, unconsciously, she spoke as if asking a favor. “Wouldn’t you like a box of nice food to take home?” she said, as she hesitatingly held the box out to him. “Do you mean to give it to me?” he asked, in such a threatening tone that Betty recoiled a little. She thought quickly. Here was another who would take offense at being looked upon as an object of charity. It flashed through her mind that if she asked him to pay a small price he would keep his self-respect and get far more than the value of his money. “No,” she stammered; “I mean to sell it to you—for ten cents.” It seemed awful to ask money for it, but surely he could pay that much, and Betty felt instinctively that he would refuse it as a gift. The man looked at her with a strange glance. “Have you got a license to sell things in the street?” he asked. “N-no!” gasped Betty, frightened now by his intent gaze at her. “Well, you quit your foolishness, lady. You move on, you and your precious bundle, or I’ll call a policeman and have you arrested!” She almost _ran_ back to the ferry-house, concluding, as she went, to throw away the luncheon and take a cab up to Dorothy’s as quickly as she could. Where to throw it away was the next question. Betty looked in vain for a refuse receptacle or ash-can. She knew it was not allowed to throw things in the street, and the cleanly swept pavement near the ferries showed no resting-place for the objectionable-box. There were poor-looking people about, but Betty did not care to risk another impertinent refusal. Just as she was about to turn into the little office to engage a taxicab, she had a brilliant idea. “I’ll go back on the ferry-boat,” she thought; “I’ll get a ferry ticket and go through the slip and on to the boat. Then I can throw the old box into the water, and come off the boat again before it starts.”