A dingy gas-jet shed a faint light, as though reluctantly awake; behind a small partition, half counter, half desk, a wan and sleepy--looking man was cowering over a stove.

As the boy entered he looked up uncertainly, then he rose and smiled, for your Parisian is exhausted indeed when he fails to conjure up a smile.
"Good-day, monsieur!" The words were a travesty in view of the miserable dawn, but the boy took heart.

There was greeting in the tone.

He moistened his lips, which felt dry as his tongue in his momentary nervousness, then he stepped closer to the counter.
"Good-day, monsieur! I require a bedroom." "A bedroom?
But certainly, monsieur!" The shrewd though tired eyes of the man passed over his visitor's clothes and the valise in his hand.
"We can give you a most excellent room at"-- he raised his eyebrows in tactful hesitation--"at five francs ?" The boy's eyes opened in genuine, instant surprise.

"For so little ?" he exclaimed.