across the floor where numerous figures, some large, some small, were already stretched in sleep, and lay down in the corner which she pointed out.
In the morning, when the uncomfortable forms about Peewee began to stir, he got up and went out. It was just beginning to be light. He followed an alley to the north and, in the damp chill of morning, sat down against a stable door to wait. He had learned by now the methods of the flower business. The opposing door, which he was watching, was a florist's. It was unlocked after a time, as the neighborhood began to awaken, and was left standing open. He could see the florist inside, sorting his stock. The man threw the most faded flowers away, put the fresh ones back, and put aside those which were not fresh enough for sale but were still not quite faded. As soon as he had finished, Peewee went in and bargained for a handful of carnations of the last sort. He wrapped them carefully in a newspaper and went along the alley and the streets, crossing the railroad tracks to the lake, where he sat down
