He drew up before a respectable-looking wooden tenement on Pennsylvania Avenue, the windows of which, just lighted up, looked warm and inviting to the chilled and weary traveller.

“Good evening, Mrs. Markham!” said the driver to a kindly-looking lady who came to the door at his knock.  “Got room for a boarder?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure.  I’m afraid not,” said the lady, loud enough for Salmon to hear and be discouraged.  “There’s only half a room unoccupied,—­if he would be content with that, and if he’s the right sort of person”—­

Here she said something in a whisper to the driver, who apparently pointed out Salmon to her inspection.

But it was too dark for her to decide whether he would do to put into the room with Williams; so Salmon had to get down and show himself.  She examined him, and he inquired her terms.  They appeared mutually satisfied.  Accordingly the driver received directions to deposit Salmon’s baggage in the entry; and the hungry and benumbed young traveller had the comfort of feeling that he had reached a home.

Grateful at finding a kind woman’s face to welcome him,—­glad of the opportunity to economize his slender means by sharing a room with another person, strongly-recommended as “very quiet” by Mrs. Markham,—­Salmon washed his face, combed his hair, and ate his first supper in Washington.  He has eaten better suppers there since, no doubt,—­but not many, I fancy, that have been sweetened by a more devout sense of reliance upon Providence.

“Williams was a companionable person, who had a place in the Treasury Department, and talked freely about the kind of work he had to do, and the salary.

“Eight hundred a year!” thought Salmon, deeming that man enviable who had constant employment, an assured position, and eight hundred a year. His ambition was to get a living simply,—­to place his foot upon some certainty, however humble, with freedom from this present gnawing anxiety, and with a prospect of rising, he cared not how slowly, to the place which he felt belonged to him in the future.  Little did he dream what that place was, when he questioned Williams so curiously as to what sort of thing the Treasury Department might be.

“If I could be sure of half that salary,—­or even of three, or two hundred, just enough to pay my expenses, the first year,—­I should be perfectly happy!”

“Haven’t you any idea what you are going to do?”

“None whatever.”

“What can you do?”

“For one thing, I can teach.  I think I shall try that.”

“You’ll find it a mighty hard place to get pupils!” said Williams, with a dubious smile.

Which rather gloomy prediction Salmon had to think of before going to bed.