an advance of fifty dollars. The blood rushed to his
thin skin under the sting of Hale's astonishment. It was the builder's
custom to pay at the end of three months, and there was no precedent
between the two men for a cash settlement.

Ethan felt that if he had pleaded an urgent need Hale might have made
shift to pay him; but pride, and an instinctive prudence, kept him from
resorting to this argument. After his father's death it had taken time
to get his head above water, and he did not want Andrew Hale, or any one
else in Starkfield, to think he was going under again. Besides, he hated
lying; if he wanted the money he wanted it, and it was nobody's business
to ask why. He therefore made his demand with the awkwardness of a proud
man who will not admit to himself that he is stooping; and he was not
much surprised at Hale's refusal.

The builder refused genially, as he did everything else: he treated the
matter as something in the nature of a practical joke, and wanted to
know if Ethan meditated buying a grand piano or adding a "cupolo" to his
house; offering, in the latter case, to give his services free of cost.

Ethan's arts were soon exhausted, and after an embarrassed pause he
wished Hale good day and opened the door of the office. As he passed out
the builder suddenly called after him: "See here--you ain't in a tight
place, are you?"

"Not a bit," Ethan's pride retorted before his reason had time to
intervene.

"Well, that's good! Because I am, a shade. Fact is, I was going to ask
you to give me a little extra time on that payment. Business is pretty
slack, to begin with, and then I'm fixing up a little house for Ned and
Ruth when they're married. I'm glad to do it for 'em, but it costs." His
look appealed to Ethan for sympathy. "The young people like things nice.
You know how it is yourself: it's not so long ago since you fixed up
your own place for Zeena."

Ethan left the grays in Hale's stable and went about some other business
in the village. As he walked away the builder's last phrase lingered in
his ears, and he reflected grimly that his seven years with Zeena seemed
to Starkfield "not so long."

The afternoon was drawing to an end, and here and there a lighted pane
spangled the cold gray dusk and made the snow look whiter. The bitter
weather had driven every one indoors and Ethan had the long rural street
to himself. Suddenly he heard the brisk play of sleigh-bells and a
cutter passed him, drawn b