I went to the address handed me, a private family of the middle class, and applied. A good looking young woman brought me a line and a couple of carpet beaters, and I smiled as I thought of the time you and I used to utilize them. At noon she showed me where to wash, invited me to lunch, and really treated me elegantly. She asked me my name, and a whole lot more, and then told me that she and her mother rather liked my looks, and wished I'd stay and sleep in the vacant house to which they intended moving, and help the men transfer the different articles from one house to another. I had intended staying the one day only, thus getting sufficient to send home for outfit and fare to Palo Alto, but she didn't understand my case, of course. She thought she was doing me a favor, and as she "looked awfully good to me," I stayed, and that's really the beginning of the story proper, the former part being merely prelude. At night the young woman's husband came home. He's head broker for one of the largest packing houses, and she told him about it. He was a little insignificant runt with a glass eye, and the tip of his olfactory organ betokened more than a speaking acquaintance with beverages of an alcoholic nature. He was pleasant at first, but he by no means approved of his wife's interest in me. She probably regarded me as a mere child, but I liked to think otherwise. He stayed at home the next day "to help move" of course. He made several significant remarks, such as, "Your hands don't look like those of a laboring man," "You say you're from Richmond, Va., but you haven't much Southern accent." "It's funny one with your control of languages, and apparent education should be beating carpets." I knew he wasn't saying this to peddle my good qualities to his pretty little spouse, the shrimp, so I at once suspected that he possessed a streak for amateur detective work. Well, I helped him move, and he watched me as a cat does a mouse, but I didn't blame him, as he had several articles of value among his stuff. We had most of the articles moved by night, but as things were strewn around in topsy-turvy fashion in the new house, he concluded to remain in the old apartments that night.