part for his entrance into the world of iron and steel. Harold carried a heavily loaded suitcase and many admonitions from his mother regarding his underwear. For the Lambs were not people to waste good carfare money and it had been agreed, if Uncle Peter assented, that Harold was to remain in Cleveland and go to work at once. So Mrs. Lamb wept a little as the train rolled into the station. And Henry Lamb had a difficult time looking cheerful, though he was helped by the satisfaction of, at last, seeing his son starting out upon a sensible enterprise rather than for some fool college. As for Harold, he looked the epitome of gloom. His forlornness was not assisted by the completely wilted collar he wore, a collar that had been straight as a guardsman when he left home, but which the early morning Ohio heat had already done for.
So the smoky local chugged out of the station bearing at least one passenger who looked as if he had just buried his best friend. As, indeed, perhaps he had, for what more cheerful comrades are there than the hopes and ambitions of youth?
Though he did not smoke, Harold decided that he might be excused for at least treating himself to the adventure of riding in the smoking car. He entered that stygian region
