"And you haven't found work anywhere?"
"Not a stroke."
"Been to Newville?"
"All through it, and everything full."
I thought this was queer. I had glanced at the Want column of a Newville newspaper and had noted that moulders were wanted in several places.
The man's appearance did not strike me favorably, and when he came closer to me I noted that his breath smelt strongly of liquor.
"I don't think I can help you," said I. "I have nothing for you to do."
"Give me a quarter, then, will you? I ain't had nothing to eat since yesterday."
"But you've had something to drink," I could not help remark.
The man scowled, "How do you know?"