Yes, it had indeed been a rough day. He remembered the repeated torture he had again suffered. It had happened early this morning, and so the sorrow had followed him throughout the day. Bernie was the office boy in a large factory. Sometimes they used him to carry messages throughout the plant. Such had been the case that morning. He was walking through the welding shop when it happened. A new welder-a huge, grimy, shirtless man-had said it. "Is that fella a midget?" the big man asked another welder as Bernie passed. "He's a nice kid. Don't pick on him," the other answered.

The new welder roared with laughter. It was a loud, cruel laugh. "Hey," he shouted at Bernie, "why don't you get a job in a circus?" He yelled something else but Bernie didn't hear the words; he was running too hard.

Throughout the morning he could hear the cruel laughter. Once, he even walked into the men's room and stood before the mirror. Alone in the lavatory tears formed in the eyes of Bernie Glutz, for the mirror seemed to agree-he should join a circus. Only slightly more than five feet tall, his slim body supported extremely wide hips. Furthermore, although he was twenty-five, his face was soft and beardless.

Standing before the mirror, he remembered another day of sorrow not too long ago. He had been walking along the sidewalk when he passed two middleaged ladies. "It's a sin against God," one of them said, "for a woman to go around dressed like that." Bernie had turned around and discovered that they were looking at him. And the shame returned.

Bernie walked into a cubicle, tore off a chunk of toilet paper and wiped the tears from his eyes. Then he returned to work, but the sadness lingered throughout the day. There had been one bright spot in the otherwise bleak day. It occurred at lunchtime in the cafeteria. He had seated himself and was in the process of unloading his tray.

"Hi, Bernie," said a masculine voice. "Can I eat with you?"

Bernie looked up and saw Frank Peterson-the welder who had defended him earlier holding a tray of food and smiling.

"Sure, sit down," said the little man. Bernie liked Frank better than anyone in the whole plant. Mostly, it was because Frank treated him warmly and as an equal. Also, the welder received Bernie's admiration because of his size-well over six feet tall, he was barrel-chested with a deep, booming voice. His face was tanned deeply from welding; it was a face seemingly molded from rock. Frank was the only big man who had ever treated Bernie like a fellow human being.

"Why the long face?" Frank asked with a grin.

"You know the answer to that one," Bernie answered candidly.

The big man unloaded his tray and seated himself. "I'm sure sorry that happened. If that sonofabitch ever shoots off his mouth like that again, well I'll kick the crap outta him."

"Forget it, Frank," he answered sadly. "He was only telling the truth. Maybe I do belong in a freak show."

"Aw, what the heck are you talking about!" Frank took a big bite of food, then munched on it silently for several minutes or so it seemed to Bernie. "What you need is to get out more," he said finally. "How often do you go out with girls?"

"Never," the little man answered truthfully.

"Tell you what, I've got a gal I now-and-then date. I bet she could fix you up

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