The silence continuing, he deliberately allowed himself to slip down into a sitting position in the doorway, where he remained.
"You seem to have been born tired," said the Doctor, grimly.
"Yes." "What have you got to say for yourself ?" "I told HIM," said the tramp, nodding his head towards the foreman, "what I'd do for a supper and a bed.

I don't want anything but that." "And if you don't get what you want on your own conditions, what'll you do ?" asked the Doctor, dryly.
"Go." "Where did you come from ?" "States." "Where are you going ?" "On." "Leave him to me," said Dr.West to his foreman.

The man smiled, and withdrew.
The Doctor bent his head again over his accounts.

The tramp, sitting in the doorway, reached out his hand, pulled a young wheat-stalk that had sprung up near the doorstep, and slowly nibbled it.

He did not raise his eyes to the Doctor, but sat, a familiar culprit awaiting sentence, without fear, without hope, yet not without a certain philosophical endurance of the situation.
"Go into that passage," said the Doctor, lifting his head as he turned a page of his ledger, "and on the shelf you'll find some clothing stores for the men.