back the sunlight like burnished silver.  He smelled the odors of breakfast upon the men’s clothes.  He held up his head high with a sort of good-humored arrogance as he passed.  He would have fought to the death for any one of these men, but he knew himself, quite innocently, upon superior heights of education, and trained thought, and ambition.  He met a man swinging a pail; he was coughing:  a wretched, long rattle of a cough.  James stopped him, opened his little medicine-case, and produced some pellets.

“Here, take one of these every hour until the cough is relieved, my friend,” said he.

The man stared, swallowed a pellet, stared again, in an odd, suspicious, surly fashion, muttered something unintelligible and passed on.

There were three villages between Gresham and Alton:  Red Hill, Stanbridge, and Westover.  James stopped in Red Hill at a quick-lunch wagon, which was drawn up on the principal street under the lee of the town hall, went in, ordered and ate with relish some hot frankfurters, and drank some coffee.  He had eaten a plentiful breakfast before starting, but the keen air had created his appetite anew.  Beside him at the counter sat a young workingman, also eating frankfurters and drinking coffee.  Now and then he gave a sidelong and supercilious glance at James’s fine clothes.  James caught one of the glances, and laughed good-naturedly.

“These quick-lunch wagons are a mighty good idea,” said he.

The man grunted and took a swallow of coffee.

“Where do you work?” asked James.

“None of your d——­ business!” retorted the other man unexpectedly.  “Where do you work yourself?”

James stared at him, then he burst into a roar.  For a second the man’s surly mouth did not budge, then the corners twitched a little.

“What in thunder are you mad about?” inquired James.  “I am going to work for Doctor Gordon in Alton, and I don’t care a d——­ where you work.”  James spoke with the most perfect good nature, still laughing.

Then the man’s face relaxed into a broad grin.  “Didn’t know but you were puttin’ on lugs,” said he.  “I am about tired of all those damned benefactors comin’ along and arskin’ of a man whot’s none of their business, when a man knows all the time they don’t care nothin’ about it, and then makin’ a man take somethin’ he don’t want, so as to get their names in the papers.”  The man sniffed a sniff of fury, then his handsome blue eyes smiled pleasantly, even with mischievous confidence into James’s, and he swallowed more coffee.

“I am no benefactor, you can bet your life on that,” said James.  “I don’t mean to give you anything you want or don’t want.”

“Didn’t know but you was one of that kind,” returned the man.

“Why?”

The man eyed James’s clothes expressively.

“Oh, you mean my clothes,” said James.  “Well, this suit and overcoat are pretty fair, but if I were a benefactor I should be wearing seedy clothes, and have my wallet stuffed with bills for other folks.”