He was lying, very easily, upon soft grass.  Above him spread the thick greenery of a giant maple; his head rested upon a cushion and close beside him, with comforting nose thrust into his open palm, lay a ferocious-looking bull pup.  The pup grinned with delight at his tentative pat; barked fiercely, and then grinned again as if to say, “Don’t mind me, it’s only my fun!”

There was a noise somewhere, a loud, cheerful noise—­the noise of children playing.  Not one child, nor two, but children—­lots of them!  This was perplexing; and another perplexing thing was the nearness of a white stoop which led up to the door of a white building; neither stoop nor building had he ever seen before.  Again the dog barked, loudly, and as if in answer to the bark, the door above the stoop opened and a young girl came out.  She cast a casual glance at him as he lay under the tree, and, settling herself daintily upon the white steps, opened a small basket and took from it a serviceable square of white damask and a lettuce sandwich.  He could see the lettuce, crisp and green, peeping out at the edges.

At the sight, he was conscious of a strange sensation; an almost forgotten feeling to which, for the moment, he could put no name.

And then, as the girl bit into the sandwich, illumination came.  He was hungry!  But what an unkind, inconsiderate girl!—­Another bite and the sandwich would be gone—­

“I am awake,” he suggested meekly.

“So Buster said.”  The girl smiled approvingly at the dog.  “Good Buster!  You may come off guard, sir.  Run away and get your lunch.”

With a delighted bark for thanks the bull pup trotted away.  Callandar’s sense of injury deepened.  The girl had begun upon a second sandwich.  Perhaps there were only two!

“Are you hungry, Mr. Tramp?” asked the girl innocently.

“I think,” he said, pausing in order to give his words full weight, “I am starving!” Then, as the blissful meaning of this first feeling of healthy hunger dawned upon him, he added solemnly:  “Thank the Lord!”

“Yes?” There was a cool edge of surprise in the girl’s voice.  She proceeded thoughtfully with the second sandwich.

“Yes.  Hunger is a beautiful thing, a priceless possession.  Money cannot buy it, skill cannot command it.  The price of hunger is far above rubies.”

The girl looked down upon him and smiled.  It was such a dear little smile that for a moment its recipient forgot about the disappearing sandwich.

“I am so glad,” she said warmly, “that you feel like that!”

There was a slight pause.  “Because,” she went on, finishing the last bite of the second sandwich, “until now I had always thought that hunger wasn’t a bit nice.  Unless, of course, one has the power to gratify it.”

“Fortunately,” said Callandar a little stiffly, “I have that power.”

The girl raised her eyebrows.  They were long and straight and black, and she raised them charmingly.  But she was a most unkind and heartless girl, for all that.  Never while he lived would he ask her for a sandwich.  With a comfortable feeling of security his hand felt for his well-filled pocketbook.  It was gone!