“Hully gee, young feller!” exclaimed the bar-keeper. “You do it great. You ought to be an actor. Step up and feed your face.” “What?” stammered Samuel, perplexed. “EAT!” said the other, and pointed. “Maybe you understand that.” And Samuel turned and saw a lot of food set out upon a counter. He rushed to it and began. At the first taste a kind of madness seized him, and he ate like a wild beast, gulping things. For several minutes he did this, while the other watched curiously. Then he remarked, “Say, you'd better quit.” “What?” asked Samuel, seizing more food. “I say quit,” said the man. “Just for your own good. I see your story's true, an' a little rest won't hurt you.” Samuel gazed longingly at the food, desiring more handfuls. “Come over here,” said the man. “What happened to you?” “I was locked in an empty freight car.” “Humph! That's a new one! How long?” “What day is this?” “Friday.” “I was locked in Wednesday morning. It seemed longer.” “It's long enough,” commented the barkeeper. “I was robbed,” Samuel went on. “A man took all my money.” And then the old shame started up in him. “Don't think I'm a beggar. I'll work and pay for this.” “That's all right,” said the barkeeper. “Be easy.” “Haven't you anything I can do? Some wood to split?” “We don't burn wood.” “Or some cleaning up?” Samuel looked round. The place did not seem very neat to him. “I'll scrub the floors for you,” he said. “We have 'em scrubbed in the early morning,” replied the man. “Well, let me come and do it,” said Samuel. “Go on!” said the other. “You'll be ready for more feed then.” “I'll come, just the same, sir.” “If you take my advice,” the bartender observed, “you'll get out of this town. Lockmanville's a poor place to hunt jobs in.” Samuel started. “Lockmanville!” he gasped. “Yes,” said the other. “Don't you know where you are?” “I didn't know,” said the boy. “Lockmanville! The one where the big glass works are?” “That's the one.” “And where old Henry Lockman lived!” “What about it?” asked the other. “Nothing,” said Samuel, “only my father invested all his money in Lockman's company, and lost it.” “Gee!” said the bartender. “Maybe if I told them,” said the boy, “they'd give me some work here.” “Maybe,” said the other--“only the works is shut down.” “Shut down!” cried Samuel; and then added, “On account of his death?” “No--they always close in summer. But this year they closed in March. Times is bad.” “Oh,” said Samuel. “So there's plenty of men looking for jobs in Lockmanville,”. the other continued, “an' some of the other factories is closed, too--the cotton mill is only runnin' half time.” “I see.” “Old Lockman used to say there was too many glass works,” the barkeeper added. “An' the fellers he bought out went an' built more. So there you are.” There was a pause. “I'm coming back in the morning,” said Samuel doggedly.