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THE COMMUTATION CHOPHOUSE
129

Church Street, his resplendent hat glowing above a trail of followers.

"Come on," I said; "it's time to eat, anyway. Let's go over to Ann Street and have a look at this philanthropic venture."

"Well," said Dulcet, "since it's your turn to buy, far be it from me to protest."

The narrow channel of Ann Street is always crowded at the lunch hour, but on that occasion it was doubly congested with patrons of the amusing toyshops. We pushed patiently along, and passing Nassau Street moved into a darker and shabbier region. A sound of music rose upon the air. To our surprise, at the entrance to an unsuspected alley stood a fiddler playing a merry jig. Beside him was another sandwich man, also stout and well-favoured and in Fifth-Avenue attire, carrying boards which read:

ENTRANCE TO THE
COMMUTATION CHOPHOUSE
Eat Drink and Be Merry
For To-morrow We Die
To-day Only, for the Jocund Yule,
Strip Tickets for
100 Square Meals, $10

"This is highly diverting," I said. "Apparently we go down this passage. Come on, everyone

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