no means uncommon. A shift in the crowd which filled the aisle of the car—it was the evening of the Fourth of July—placed him opposite a young man who had come on board at the last stop. The man might possibly have been a mechanic, Plainly he was a sturdy, hard-working, self-respecting fellow, not at all the kind of person to air his affairs in public. He asked the social worker when they were due at the terminal and the latter in reply brought forth his time-table. A few minutes later a question about hotels was asked, and answered.
Beyond this there was no conversation. After a quarter of an hour the train approached its destination and the social worker began edging his way toward the platform. The young man followed him, and, as they reached the steps said with a sigh:
"Well, I'm feeling mighty blue to-night."
"That's too bad," the social worker replied. "This isn't a day on which to feel blue."
There was a pause for a moment or two. The train had slowed almost to a stop. Then, the young man continued:
"I've just said good-bye to the best friend I have on earth."
