At both of these two charities, during the severe winter which was now on, Hurstwood was a frequent visitor.  On one occasion it was peculiarly cold, and finding no comfort in begging about the streets, he waited until noon before seeking this free offering to the poor.  Already, at eleven o’clock of this morning, several such as he had shambled forward out of Sixth Avenue, their thin clothes flapping and fluttering in the wind.  They leaned against the iron railing which protects the walls of the Ninth Regiment Armory, which fronts upon that section of Fifteenth Street, having come early in order to be first in.  Having an hour to wait, they at first lingered at a respectful distance; but others coming up, they moved closer in order to protect their right of precedence.  To this collection Hurstwood came up from the west out of Seventh Avenue and stopped close to the door, nearer than all the others.  Those who had been waiting before him, but farther away, now drew near, and by a certain stolidity of demeanor, no words being spoken, indicated that they were first.

Seeing the opposition to his action, he looked sullenly along the line, then moved out, taking his place at the foot.  When order had been restored, the animal feeling of opposition relaxed.

“Must be pretty near noon,” ventured one.

“It is,” said another.  “I’ve been waiting nearly an hour.”

“Gee, but it’s cold!”

They peered eagerly at the door, where all must enter.  A grocery man drove up and carried in several baskets of eatables.  This started some words upon grocery men and the cost of food in general.

“I see meat’s gone up,” said one.

“If there wuz war, it would help this country a lot.”

The line was growing rapidly.  Already there were fifty or more, and those at the head, by their demeanor, evidently congratulated themselves upon not having so long to wait as those at the foot.  There was much jerking of heads, and looking down the line.

“It don’t matter how near you get to the front, so long as you’re in the first twenty-five,” commented one of the first twenty-five.  “You all go in together.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Hurstwood, who had been so sturdily displaced.

“This here Single Tax is the thing,” said another.  “There ain’t going to be no order till it comes.”

For the most part there was silence; gaunt men shuffling, glancing, and beating their arms.

At last the door opened and the motherly looking sister appeared.  She only looked an order.  Slowly the line moved up and, one by one, passed in, until twenty-five were counted.  Then she interposed a stout arm, and the line halted, with six men on the steps.  Of these the ex-manager was one.  Waiting thus, some talked, some ejaculated concerning the misery of it; some brooded, as did Hurstwood.  At last he was admitted, and, having eaten, came away, almost angered because of his pains in getting it.