"Oh, I don't know that," replied Amy, "but he was very kind to me and sat up at night to design a cover for a little booklet I was having printed. I never saw him to thank him though, for he was out when I called the next day. I heard that Mr. Udell had a tramp working for him and I suppose it was he, for he acted very strangely--he may have been drinking. It is too bad for he must have been a splendid workman. There ought to be one of those books here," and she began turning over the things on the table. "Yes, here it is." And she handed Dick the pamphlet that had caused him so much trouble that night in the office. It is hard to say where the matter would have ended had not Miss Jameson, another member of the social committee, appeared just then, and ordered them to the parlor, where Amy was wanted to play. After the company had listened to several instrumental pieces and one or two solos by different girls, one of the young men asked, "Don't you sing, Mr. Falkner?" "Of course he does," and all began calling for a song. A sudden thought struck Dick, and stepping quickly to the piano, he played his own accompaniment and sang, in a rich baritone voice, a street song: "They tell me go work for a living, And not round the country to stamp; And then when I ask for employment, They say there's no work for a tramp." The song was by no means a classic one, but the manner in which Dick rendered it made it seem so, and as he sang: "There's many a true heart beating, Beneath the old coat of a tramp." A strange hush fell over the little audience, and when the song was finished a subdued murmur of applause filled the room, while eager voices called for more. Dick responded with another selection and then declaring that he had done his share, left the instrument and seated himself by Charlie's side. "Good, old man," said that young gentleman, in a whisper, "but where in the world did you learn all that?" "Dance hall and variety," whispered Dick. "Never thought I'd air that accomplishment at a church social." Charlie's reply was lost in a call to the dining room, where light refreshments were served to the hungry young people by waiters from among their number; then turn about, and the waiters were waited upon; and through it all ran the laugh and jest of happy young folks, who thoroughly enjoyed each other's company, and who for one evening met on common ground. After supper, came games and more music, while a few of the more earnest ones, in an out-of-the-way corner, discussed the reading room and planned for its future. Then came a call for everyone to sing, and with Amy at the piano, they sang song after song until it was time to go. Then the bustle of leave-taking--good nights--lovely time--my house next month--and Dick found himself walking downtown, arm in arm with his friend. "Well," said the latter, "how about it?" "Thank you for a pleasant evening," replied Dick. "But say, those folks don't know me, do they?"