ched these with reverent hands: but two thousand dollars in a lump
from one of the best-known publishers in the country staggered Amzi. To
add to his mystification, half the amount plus one cent, to-wit,
$1057.58, was immediately transferred to Thomas Kirkwood's account, and
this left Amzi away up in the air. Just what right Tom Kirkwood had to
participate in Nan's earnings Amzi did not know, nor did he see
immediately any way of finding out.

What did happen, though, coincident with this event, and much to his
gratification, was the installation of a girl-of-all-work in Kirkwood's
house. Phil had been dislodged from the kitchen, and Amzi was mightily
relieved by this. A kitchen was no place for his niece, that flower of
the Montgomery flock. His spirits rose when Phil hailed him one morning
as he stood baring his head to the November air on the bank steps, and
told him that her occupation was gone. She made the confession ruefully;
it was unfair for her father to discharge her just as she was getting
the hang of the range and learning to broil a steak without incinerating
it. "Just for that" she would spend a great deal of time in Main Street,
and ruin her constitution at Struby's soda-fountain.

While Amzi was still trying to account for Nan's check, two other
incidents contributed further to his perplexities. On his way home one
evening he saw Nan and Kirkwood walking together. It was only a fair
assumption that the two friends had met by chance and that Kirkwood was
merely accompanying Nan to her door, as he had every right to do. They
were walking slowly and talking earnestly. To avoid passing them, Amzi
turned off at the first cross-street, but stood for a moment staring
after them. Then the next evening he had gone to call at the Bartletts'
and all his intervening speculations were overthrown when he found
Kirkwood there alone with Rose, Nan being, it seemed, in Indianapolis on
a visit. Rose and Kirkwood had evidently been deeply engrossed, too,
when Amzi interrupted their conference with the usual thump of the
drumstick. The piano, he observed, was closed, and it was inexplicable
that Kirkwood should be spending an unmusical evening with Rose. Nor was
Phil with her father. This was another damaging fact. It was a blow to
Amzi to find that such things could happen in his own town, and under
his very eyes.

If it hadn't been for Phil's party, the preparations for which gave him
plenty to do, Amzi's winter would