Jesse remained in prayer. Almost
with tears he pleaded for widows and fatherless children, until my
servant's austere face became quite gentle, and she was able to hobble
off to her bed feeling that all was well.

The night being cold, Jesse had his cigar beside the stove, while I sat
on the low stool so that the fumes might rise above my unworthy head.

"The widow believes," I said, "that her boy will get rich in the city."

"I got Billy a job."

Jesse's face looked very grave.

"At a grocery," he added.

I sighed for the romantic lad, condemned to an apron behind the counter.

"And the young hawk flew off."

"I'm glad!"

"Ye see it's this way, Kate. He's shying heaps at Ashcroft, the first
town he ever seen, where there's a bit of sidewalk, electric lights, and
waitresses. I had to kiss the fluffy one to show him they don't bite.

"Then thar's the railroad. By that time he's getting worldly, all
'you-can't-fool-me,' and 'not-half-so-slick-as-our-ranch' until we comes
to his first tunnel, and he jumps right out of his skin. After that he
wants everybody to know he's a cow-boy wild and lone, despising the
tenderfoot passengers right through the two hundred and fifty miles to
Vancouver. At the depot he points one ear at the liners in port, and the
other ear at them sky-scraping, six-story business blocks up street. He
feels he'd ought to play wolf, shoot up saloons, and paint the town, but
he's getting scary as cats because there's too many people all at once.
He loses count, thinks there's three horns goes to one steer, and wants
to hold my hand. That's when a motorcar snorts in his ear; a
street-car comes at him ears back, teeth bare, and tail a-waving; and a
lady axes him what time the twelve o'clock train leaves. Then he hears a
band play, and it's too much--he just stampedes for the woods. When I
rounds him up next afternoon, he's just ate a candy store, he's gorged
to the eyes, and trying to make room for ice-cream. The next two days
Billy's close-herded, and fed high to give his mind a rest. He seen the
sea, pawed the wet of it, snuffed the big smell--yes, and the boy near
crying. Town men who can't smell, or see, or hear, or feel with their
hands, would have some trouble understanding what the sea means to a
sort of child like that.

"He's willing to start work as a millionaire, but don't feel no holy
vocation for groceries. So in the end he runs away, out of that
frying-pan into the--wall, the rest