"I don't know," he said; "I always enjoy it. It's quiet and cool; everybody 's well dressed, and I like to sit there, close my eyes, think over my troubles, and listen to the music. And then, again"--here his voice grew soft--"I 've a feeling that it pleases Pert to know that I 'm there. She liked me to go to church, and I think she knows it now when I go; do n't you? I would n't take a great deal of money and think that she did n't know." What Pert must have thought of his actions weekdays was perhaps a fair question; but it was one that I had the heart not to ask. And so it went on; my efforts to get him a position and reform him ending in nothing, as I have previously related. After the big meeting closed Checkers reached his lowest ebb. It was during these days that he made my office a loafing place. I suppose that for six weeks I practically supported him, lending him two or three dollars at a time, to "square his room rent," "get out his overcoat," "pay a doctor's bill," "play a good thing," and heaven knows what not--each time assuring him that I positively would not succumb again, but regularly doing so. Still, I never begrudged it. A couple of hours with him was worth a few dollars at any time. I divided the expense between my amusement and charity accounts; and, in truth, when with him I never could tell whether pleasure or compassion had the upper hand with me. I have tried to set down with some succinctness the major part of his experiences as I heard them; but I fear they have greatly lost, in the telling, that delicious flavor of originality which Checkers' person, voice, and manner gave to them as I heard them piecemeal. Many of his sayings, when repeated afterward by Murray or me, scarcely caused a smile, while coming from him they had seemed to us excruciatingly funny. But I believe the secret was this--he never seemed to say anything with the primary idea of being funny. He always looked up with genuine surprise when his listeners laughed, and only joined them, when the mirth was infectious, by deepening a little the cynical curves at either corner of his expressive mouth. For two weeks I missed him. On a morning of the third he came in with a look of happiness on his face. "I 've got a job," he said, simply. I wrung his hand. "Where?" I asked. "With Mr. Richmond."