Her old shoddy shawl hid her rough hands, red from the day’s work, but they were working nervously. Jennie stood by in strained silence. “Well,” concluded Mr. Bauman, “I guess it’s all right this time. Do what you can for me Saturday.” He wrapped up the bread and bacon, and, handing Jennie the parcel, he added, with a touch of cynicism: “When you get money again I guess you’ll go and trade somewhere else.” “No,” returned Mrs. Gerhardt; “you know better than that.” But she was too nervous to parley long. They went out into the shadowy street, and on past the low cottages to their own home. “I wonder,” said the mother, wearily, when they neared the door, “if they’ve got any coal?” “Don’t worry,” said Jennie. “If they haven’t I’ll go.” “A man run us away,” was almost the first greeting that the perturbed George offered when the mother made her inquiry about the coal. “I got a little, though.” he added. “I threw it off a car.” Mrs. Gerhardt only smiled, but Jennie laughed. “How is Veronica?” she inquired. “She seems to be sleeping,” said the father. “I gave her medicine again at five.” While the scanty meal was being prepared the mother went to the sick child’s bedside, taking up another long night’s vigil quite as a matter of course. While the supper was being eaten Sebastian offered a suggestion, and his larger experience in social and commercial matters made his proposition worth considering. Though only a car-builder’s apprentice, without any education except such as pertained to Lutheran doctrine, to which he objected very strongly, he was imbued with American color and energy. His transformed name of Bass suited him exactly. Tall, athletic, and well-featured for his age, he was a typical stripling of the town. Already he had formulated a philosophy of life. To succeed one must do something—one must associate, or at least seem to associate, with those who were foremost in the world of appearances. For this reason the young boy loved to hang about the Columbus House. It seemed to him that this hotel was the center and circumference of all that was worth while in the social sense. He would go down-town evenings, when he first secured money enough to buy a decent suit of clothes, and stand around the hotel entrance with his friends, kicking his heels, smoking a two-for-five-cent cigar, preening himself on his stylish appearance, and looking after the girls. Others were there with him—town dandies and nobodies, young men who came there to get shaved or to drink a glass of whisky. And all of these he admired and sought to emulate. Clothes were the main touchstone. If men wore nice clothes and had rings and pins, whatever they did seemed appropriate. He wanted to be like them and to act like them, and so his experience of the more pointless forms of life rapidly broadened.