Myself

Soapy sat on a seat in Madison Square, New York, and looked up at the sky. A deal leaf fell onto his arm. Winter is coming, and Soapy knew that he must make his plans. He moved unhappily on his sea.

He wanted three months in a nice, warm prison, with food and good friends. This was how he usually spent his winters. And now it was time, because, at night on his seat in the square, three newspapers did not keep out the cold.

So Soapy decided to go to prison, and at once began to try his first plan. It was usually easy. He ate dinner in an expensive restaurant. Then he told them he had no money and they called a policeman. Nice and easy, with no trouble.

So Soapy left his seat, and walked slowly along the street. Soon he came to a bright restaurant on Broadway. Ah! This was all right. He just had to get to a table in the restaurant and sit down. That was all, because, when he sat down, people could only see his coat and his shirt, which were not very old. Nobody could see his trousers. He thought about the meal---not too expensive, but good.

But when Soapy went into the restaurant, the waiter saw Soapy’s dirty old trousers and terrible shoes.

Strong hands turned him round and helped him out into the street again.

So now he had to think of something different.

He began to walk back to Madison Square and home----his seat.