What Happened to Tad

WHEN the wind blew the clouds away about midnight, and the moon came out, the cold white light falling upon a lonely high road revealed a wretched figure toiling on with weary, dragging steps, his garments heavy with rain.

This miserable tramp was Tad. He still carried his satchel, but that too was drenched, and when he stopped and groped in it for some food to stay the pangs of hunger, he pulled out only a squashy mess of pulp which had once called itself a penny roll, but which now bore no resemblance whatever-not even a family likeness-to that dainty.