spent the eight cents.All the way back to Philadelphia, however, his mind reverted painfully
to the problem. In vain did he pass up a subsequent train boy’s
blandishments on the subject of chocolate; he never ate chocolate. The
sensitive tablet refused to be gulled into accepting an entry on any
such pretext. Equally idle was it to pretend that he might have given a
quarter instead of fifteen cents to the porter at Philadelphia. Fifteen
cents was his un erringly methodical tip. To make matters worse
the train was nearly an hour late. Consequently there would be no
opportunity of further saving; not even eight cents.

Heavy-hearted he disembarked. The beggar had asked to be informed about
the experiment. Well; he’d tell him. Too bad! Might as well get it over
with. And there was only ten minutes’ leeway. He’d phone from that
hotel opposite. Possibly the beggar could, of his magic, evolve some
last-moment plan. So approaching the telephone girl he began: “Broad,
Four-four----” and gasped.

The beggar’s purse had stirred. It had more than stirred. It had
flopped. It was now doing more than flopping. It was turning frantic
handsprings in his pocket.

“Never mind that call,” said the perturbed E. Van Tenner. “I’ll--I’ll
write.”

The beggar’s purse settled down and went to sleep.

“How--how much would that call have been?” asked E. Van Tenner
breathlessly.

“Local. Ten cents.”

“And a letter--no, a postal card--is two cents. That’s eight cents
saved. The exact amount! Gimme a postal card. No; I don’t need to write.
I’ll save the whole ten cents and be two cents to the good. I’ve done
it! I’ve done it! Whoopee!” said E. Van Tenner, dancing upon the marble
floor.

“Police!” said the telephone girl.

With the purpose of calling up the beggar on his own phone, free of

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