turning from school.
There were always numerous reasons why Rad could not share in the
labour. When the ten by fourteen-foot hole was made, boards to line
and floor it were needed. Lumber was very cheap--inferior, second-hand
stuff was to be had for the asking--and Yan found and carried boards
enough to make the workroom. Rad was an able carpenter and now took
charge of the construction. They worked together evening after
evening, Yan discussing all manner of plans with warmth and
enthusiasm--what they would do in their workshop when finished--how
they might get a jig-saw in time and saw picture frames, so as to
make some money. Rad assented with grunts or an occasional Scripture
text--that was his way. Each day he told Yan what to go on with while
he was absent.

The walls were finished at length; a window placed in one side; a door
made and fitted with lock and key. What joy! Yan glowed with pleasure
and pride at the triumphant completion of his scheme. He swept up the
floor for the finishing ceremony and sat down on the bench for a grand
gloat, when Rad said abruptly:

"Going to lock up now." That sounded gratifyingly important. Yan
stepped outside. Rad locked the door, put the key in his pocket, then
turning, he said with cold, brutal emphasis:

"Now you keep out of my workshop from this on. _You_ have nothing
to do with it. It's mine. I got the permission to make it." All of
which he could prove, and did.

* * * * *

Alner, the youngest, was eighteen months younger than Yan, and about
the same size, but the resemblance stopped there. His chief aim in
life was to be stylish. He once startled his mother by inserting into
his childish prayers the perfectly sincere request: "Please, God,
make me an awful swell, for Jesus sake." Vanity was his foible, and
laziness his sin.

He could be flattered into anything that did not involve effort. He
fairly ached to be famous. He was consuming with desire to be pointed
out for admiration as the great this, that or the other thing--it did
not matter to him what, as long as he could be pointed out. But he
never had the least idea of working for it. At school he was a sad
dunce. He was three grades below Yan and at the bottom of his grade.
They set out for school each day together, because that was a paternal
ruling; but they rarely reached there together. They had nothing in
common. Yan was full of warmth, enthusiasm, earnestness and energy,