Occasionally a sight bobs up without warning in a city, which starts
a train of thought, sad or gay, according to how you look at it. And
so, Lucy, Priscilla, and Virginia Adams, walking along Broadway, saw a
crowd around a lamp post, upon which was a patrol-box; and, though our
girls don't customarily follow up such sights, Lucy saw a man's form
sprawling flat up against that post, as limp as a rag. Priscilla said,
in disgust:--
"_Ugh!!_ It's Norman Antor! Drunk again!!" and Virginia, hastily
grasping both girls' arms and hurrying past, said:--
"So!! His vacation in jail didn't do him any good! But, still, it's
too bad. Norman is a good looking, manly lad, with a good mind and a
thorough schooling. And _now_ look at him! A _common drunk!!_"