Rock Island daily Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1886-1893, 1888-01-14
CHAPTER II.
MAsoUERApING

Philip pushed open the door of Market
hall and looked in. About sixty men were
scattered over the benches in all conceivable
positions. A number held pipes between
their teoth, filing the room with tho rank
smoke of the strongest and blacklist tobacco.
Here and there two men appropriated u
whole bench, one at each end, for n sofa. But
more of them were settled down on the small
of their backs, with their knees braced
against the bench in front. He saw in a mo-
ment that, though be was worse dressed than
any of them, yet there was difference in
kind also. There was more meaning in one
wrinkle ON their well worn coats than in all
his ingenious paraphernalia. He felt ashamed
in the presence of these pathetic realities, and
turned to go back, but his great boots creaked
incautiously. Only two or three looked
around; a poor man more or less does not
count for much with the poor or with the
rich. Two or three grave, worn faces, two
or three pairs of tired hopeless eyes rebuked
him unconsciously for the idle freak that
brought him there. What right had he there,
who came out G. curiosity to watch the I'M
healthy symptoms of the disease called pow
erty? What an insult to their bitter needs
were his mock trimmings, in which he came
like one masquerading among graveyard
full of ghostsl
long whiskered man beckoned to him.
He found his way to a seat with a hang
dog air, the best piece of acting he had done
yet. The same stolid look was on this mans
face, bleached to a settled paleness from the
confinement of years in the walls of the mills,
and there was bitterness about the mouth
and nostrils as if he had not kissed the rod
that smote him.
"No call to be shamed, young man. 1 sup
pose thems the best clothes you got. Your
heart may be just as white as if you had
better livin'.n
The poor don't talk except when they have
something to say. So Philip said nothing, to
act in character.
II suppose you think you're pretty hard
up" resumed the big whiskered man, who
was no other than Graves, the man who had
peered into his companions parlor window
only an hour ago. And he glanced signih-
cantly at Philips boots and soiled panta-
looms
"Jest look at that little chap over yonder,
all bowed up. He don't look very hearty,
does hel Up to his house there's wife all
faded and broken, and two little cripples for
children, a whinin' and screechin' from
mornin' tonight. He would chop his head
off to help them, but he is slow and weak,
and don't git but ninety cents day, and he
can't save them babies single ache, nor ease
their poor misshapen little bones one twinge.
1t takes every penny to keep the wretched
breath in 'em all, and him and his wife, once
as purity a gal as ever you seen, has only to
stand and see 'em cry. They used TO cry
themselves, too, but that was long ago"
Graves looked about him. DO you see
that lean faced man with the hurt arm, at
the end of the seat ye're onf Wei, he's got
the smartest little boy in town All he
wanted was schoolin', and his father and
mother saved and scrimped 50 he could have
it. You Oughter seen how proud they was to
see their lad struttin' Off to school while they
kept thinkin' of him all day long in the
mill And they was never too tired 10 hear
the boy tell them over the hard names
he had learned. And then they would
tell the neighoors, who sumetirnes got
jealous, how they was savin every
cent and how their boy was goin' to col
lege like old Breton's son But there was no