On every street that offered chance of being the one
he sought he went up and down its length, and not until he felt he was
being noticed did he take into partial confidence a good-natured
policeman who had nodded to him on his third passing. The man was
kindly, but for hay-stack needles there was no time and he was
directed to headquarters. To find a house, number unknown, on a
street, name unknown, of a party, full name again unknown, was too
much of a puzzle for busy times like these. Any other time than
Christmas--He was turned from that an inquiry from a woman with a
child in her arms might be answered.
"Any other time than Christmas!"
With a sense of demoralization it was dawning on him that he might not
find her, or Carmencita, in time for Christmas, and he _must_ find
them. A great hunger for the day to be to him what it seemed to be to
others possessed him feverishly, and with eyes that saw what they had
never seen before he watched, as he walked, the faces of the people
who passed, and in his heart crept childish longing to buy something
for somebody, something that was wanted very much, as these people
seemed to be doing.
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