More impressive was the neat little man who opened to our ring. He was a wan, wistful, smiling little figure of sixty-odd, on whom all the ends of the world seemed to have come. He was like a man who has been dead and buried and has come to life again—but who shows he has been dead. If I had to look like that.... But I took comfort in the thought of Pyn. Pyn showed nothing. He was like one of the three holy men who went through Nebuchadnezzar’s furnace—the smell of fire had not passed on him. A heartier, healthier, merrier fellow it would have been difficult to find. He entered now with the air of authority which belongs to the member of a club. “Fellows had their breakfast, Spender?” Spender was all welcome, of the wistful, yearning kind. “The men at work is gone; but the guys under restraint is still at table.” “Mr. Christian not here yet?” “Never gets here before nine; and it’s not half past seven yet.” Pyn turned to me. “Say, do you want to go in and feed, or will you wash up first, or go to bed, or what?” With this large liberty of choice I asked if we could do whatever we liked. It was Spender who explained. “That’s the rule for new arrivals, unless they’ve got to be put under restraint at once.” “I don’t want to be put under no restraint,” Lovey declared, indignantly. “That’ll be all right,” Spender replied, kindly, “unless there’s vermin—” Lovey jumped. “See here, now! Don’t you begin no such immodest talk to me.” “There, there, Lovikins,” Pyn broke in. “Spender don’t mean no harm. All sorts have to come to a place like this. But when we see a gentleman we treat him like a gentleman. All Spender wants to know is this, Is it eats for you first, or a bath?” “And I don’t want no bath,” Lovey declared, proudly. “Then it’ll be eats. Quick march! I’ve got to beat it back to my job.” Pyn’s introduction of us to those already in the dining-room was simple. “This is Lovey. This is Slim. You guys’ll make ’em feel at home.” Making us feel at home consisted in moving along the table so as to give us room. In words there was no response to Pyn, who withdrew at once, nor was there more than a cursory inspection of us with the eyes. Whatever was kindly was in the atmosphere, and that was perceptible. As we sat before two empty places, one of our new companions rose, went to the dresser behind us, and brought us each a plate, a spoon, a knife, and a cup and saucer. A big man went to the kitchen door and in a voice like thunder called out, “Mouse!” By the time he had returned to his place a stumpy individual with a big red mustache and a limp appeared on the threshold. An explanation of the summons was given him when a third of our friends pointed at us with a spoonful of oatmeal porridge before he put it in his mouth.