He came to a great estate with a
stone gateway and iron railings ten feet high, and an avenue of
stately elm trees; there were bright green lawns with peacocks and
lyre birds strutting about, and a great colonial mansion with white
pillars in the distance. "Fairview," read the name upon the gates.
And then again Samuel remembered his appetite. Surely amid all this
luxury there would be some chance for him! He started up the path!
He had got about halfway to the house when a man who was tending the
flowers caught sight of him and came toward him. "What are you doing
here?" he called, before he had come halfway.
"I'm looking for some work," began Samuel.
"Do you want to get your head punched?" shouted the man. "What do you
mean by coming in here?"
"Why, what's the matter?" asked the boy perplexed.
"Get out, you loafer!" cried the other.
And Samuel turned and went quickly. A loafer!
So for the first time it occurred to him to look at his clothes, which
were muddy from his tumble in the ditch. And no doubt his face and
hands were dirty also, and his hair unkempt, and his aspect
unprepossessing enough for an applicant for labor. At any rate it was
clear that this was not the part of the town to seek it in; so he went
back across the bridge.
Twilight had fallen and the stores were shutting up. Soon everything
would be closed; and that night he felt that he would perish.
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