Larry stretched out his hands and cried, “Come back, oh, come back!”

But the echo of his own words was all he heard in response.  He lay quite motionless and still for some time after that, thinking about all the voice had said to him, and when finally he pushed his hat back from before his eyes, he saw the starlit sky smiling down upon him benignantly.  And then, from behind a dark cloud he saw the radiant moon appear, and it seemed to him like the most beautiful woman’s face he could imagine, peering out from the shadow of her own dusky hair to welcome the night.

He got upon his feet as well as he could, for he was very stiff with lying so long, and stumbled on toward some dark nook or cranny where he could huddle unseen until the morning; his head full of plans for the morrow, and his heart beating high with courage and hope.

He would dream no more, but labor.  He would work at the first thing that came to hand, and then, perhaps, that wonderful thing which the voice had called inspiration would come to him, and he would be able to mount to heaven on it and bring down to earth some of the glorious things he saw.  He thought inspiration must be some sort of a magical ladder, that was invisible to all but those given special sight to see and power to use it.  If he ever caught a glimpse of it he intended to take hold at once and climb straight up to the blessed regions above; and dreaming of all he would see there, he fell asleep.

In the morning he was awake bright and early, and stretching himself with a long-drawn yawn, set out to find some way of procuring for himself a breakfast.  First at one shop-door and then at another he stopped, popping in his shaggy head and asking the man inside, “Give me a job, Mister?” and being in reply promptly invited to “clear out!”

But it took more than this to discourage Larry, heartened as he was by the remembrance of his visions of the day before; and on and on he went, until, at last, in answer to his question—­and just as he was about to withdraw his head from the door of the express-office into which he had popped it a moment before—­he was bidden to say what it was he could do.  Almost too surprised at the change in greeting to be able to reply, he stumbled back into the place and stood a moment in rather stupid silence before his questioner.

“Well, ain’t yer got no tongue in yer head, young feller?  Seemed ter have a minute ago.  Ef yer can’t speak up no better ’n this, yer ain’t the boy fer us.”

But by this time Larry had recovered himself sufficiently to blurt out:  “I kin lift an’ haul an’ run errants an’ do all sorts o’ work about the place.  Won’t ye try me, Mister?  Lemme carry out that box ter show ye how strong I am;” and suiting the action to the words, he shouldered a heavy packing-case and was out upon the sidewalk and depositing it upon a wagon, already piled with trunks and luggage, before the man had time to reply.