Presently he lays down his bundle and seats himself, a pilgrim whose
wanderings and weariness are over. The brilliant lights, the
comfortable surroundings, the sound of pleasant voices all fill his
heart with joy, and he settles himself back, thoroughly glad to be at
rest. Next, a beautiful woman enters, her face is lined with care and
her dark, bright eyes are full of trouble. She does not tarry, but
hurries on like one seeking for something yet to come. A little child,
with lingering, backward glance, flits through the swinging door as if
loath to say good-bye to some one on the other side. A hard-featured
man, whose sullen glance travels quickly about the place, comes next;
he seems seeking for some one to welcome him, and is abashed to find
himself alone among unheeding strangers. Next a bevy of laughing girls
come in together, and the door, swinging quickly behind them, discloses
a band of young companions who lingeringly turn away, content to know
the sheltered ones are safely gathered out of the darkness and the
storm which they must still face. Some enter the door as though
bewildered; some as though glad to find rest; some as though frightened
at unknown harm, and some as though suspicious of all that they beheld.
Once I noticed a poor creature who came through the door crying
bitterly, but her tears were quickly dried by a waiting one who sprang
forward and greeted her with a tender embrace.
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