“I saw an advertisement for a coachman,” he said, briefly, “and I have come to apply for the place if it is not already filled.”

To his utter amazement the door was closed violently in his face, and he distinctly heard the bolt shot.  He was completely at a loss to account for such a proceeding.  He remained standing, staring at the blank front of the door, and a light flashed across the room inside and caused him to look at the windows.  The light had been carried into a room at the back, but he saw in the pale dimness of the kitchen a group of women and one boy, and they were all staring out at him.  Then the boy started on a run across the room, and he heard a door slam.  Carroll waited.  He could not imagine what it was all about, and a feeling of desperation was coming over him.  It seemed to him that he must find something to do, that he could not go home again.  The position of coachman began to seem desirable to him.  Charlotte need not know what he was doing; no one need know.  He had resolved to give another name, and he would soon find another position.  This would be a makeshift.  In this he could at least keep himself to himself.  He need associate with nothing except the horses, and they were likely to be thorough-breds.  It would not, after all, be half so bad as some other things—­guiding superb horses through the streets and waiting at doors for his employers.  To his mind, a coachman—­that is, a City coachman—­wears always more or less of a mask of stiff attention to duty.  He could hide behind this mask.  In reality, Carroll was almost at the end of his strength.  His pride had suddenly become a forgotten thing.  He was wretchedly worn out, and, in fact, he was hungry, almost famished.  He had eaten very little lately, and poor Charlotte, in truth, knew little about cookery.  He, in reality, became for the time what in once sense he was impersonating.  He became a coachman in dire need of a job.  Therefore he waited.  He reflected, while he waited, that if they did not hurry he would miss his train and Charlotte would worry.  In case he secured the position she would certainly have to join the others in Kentucky; there would be no other way, for he would be obliged to remain in the City over night.

All at once the door before him was swung violently open and a gentleman stood there.  Carroll felt at once that he was Mr. A. Baumstein.

“What do you want, sir?” inquired the gentleman, and his tone was distinctly hostile, although he looked like a well-bred man, and it seemed puzzling that he thus received an answer to his application.

“I saw your advertisement, sir—­” Carroll began.

“My advertisement for what, pray?” repeated Mr. Baumstein.

“For a coachman,” replied Carroll, “and I thought if you had not already secured one—­”

“Clear out, or I will call a policeman!” thundered Mr. Baumstein, and again the door was slammed in his face.