THE MAN IN THE WINDOW
humor, but every time he looked down at the faces below he shuddered. "I suppose they are examining my points," he said to himself.
"Ugh! Watch 'em grinning at me as if I were an elephant in a cage—who's that?" He had seen one face that he thought he recognized. The owner of it, when he caught his eye, turned and hurried off. He felt himself blushing, even on his bare arms. It was because he was angry. Young told himself, not ashamed. "I wonder if that was Lansing again! But he need not have skipped out. I wasn't going to speak to him—the snob!" But after that he kept his face turned from the crowd as much as he could.
It was now well on in the evening. The theatres were all out. The sidewalks were crowded with the metropolitan midnight procession. It would soon be time to stop. Young thought he would enjoy his bed. "I hope I have afforded amusement for you New Yorkers." Just then he was startled by an old familiar sound. From the
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