"You look all in, feller," the man said as he broke the eggs into the sizzling grease of the frying pan.
"Came down from upstate. I walked fifteen miles this mornin."
The man made a whistling sound through his eyeteeth. "Comin to the big city to look for a job, eh?"
Bud nodded. The man flopped the eggs sizzling and netted with brown out onto the plate and pushed it towards Bud with some bread and butter on the edge of it. "I'm goin to slip you a bit of advice, feller, and it won't cost you nutten. You go an git a shave and a haircut and brush the hayseeds out o yer suit a bit before you start lookin. You'll be more likely to git somethin. It's looks that count in this city."
"I kin work all right. I'm a good worker," growled Bud with his mouth full.
"I'm tellin yez, that's all," said the redhaired man and turned back to his stove.
When Ed Thatcher climbed the marble steps of the wide hospital entry he was trembling. The smell of drugs caught at his throat. A woman with a starched face was looking at him over the top of a desk. He tried to steady his voice.
"Can you tell me how Mrs. Thatcher is?"
"Yes, you can go up."
"But please, miss, is everything all right?"
"The nurse on the floor will know anything about the case. Stairs to the left, third floor, maternity ward."
Ed Thatcher held a bunch of flowers wrapped in green waxed paper. The broad stairs swayed as he stumbled up, his toes kicking against the brass rods that held the fiber matting down. The closing of a door cut off a strangled shriek. He stopped a nurse.
"I want to see Mrs. Thatcher, please."
"Go right ahead if you know where she is."
"But they've moved her."