out and set down on the faint rug of light
a small wooden hobbyhorse.

He stood staring at it, remembering it as clearly as if some one had set
before him the old white gate which he bestrode in his own boyhood. It
was Malcolm's hobbyhorse, dappled gray, the tail and the mane missing
and the paint worn off--and tenderly licked off--his nose. When they had
moved to the other house, he had bought the boy a pony, and this horse
had been left behind. Something else stirred in his memory, the name by
which Malcolm had used to call his hobbyhorse, some ringing name ... but
he had forgotten. He thrust the thing back where it had been and went on
with his search for the account books.

By the time he had found them and had got down again in the office, the
bookkeeper was there, keeping up the fire and uttering, with some
acumen, comments on the obvious aspects of the weather, of the climate,
of the visible universe. The bookkeeper was a young man, very ready to
agree with Ebenezer for the sake of future favour, but with the
wistfulness of all industrial machines constructed by men from human
potentialities. Also, he had a cough and thin hands and a little family
and no job.

"Get to work on this book," Ebenezer bade him; "it's the one that began
the business."

The man opened the book, put it to his nearsighted eyes, frowned, and
glanced up at Ebenezer.

"I don't think it seems...." he began doubtfully.

"Well, don't think," said Ebenezer, sharply; "that's not needful. Read
the first entries."

[Illustration: "ACROSS THE STILL FIELDS CAME FLASHING THE POINT OF
FLAME"]

The bookkeeper read:--

Picking hops (4 days) . . . . $1.00
Sewing (Mrs. Shackell). . . . .60
Egg money (3-1/4 dozen) . . . .75
Winning puzzle. . . . . . . . 2.50
-----
$4.86

Disbursed:

Kitchen roller. . . . . . . . $ .10
Coffee mill . . . . . . . . . .50
Shoes for M. . . . . . . . . 1.25
Water colors for M. . . . . . .25
Suit for M. . . . . . . . . . 2.00
Gloves--me. . . . . . . . . . .50
-----
$4.75

Cash on hand: 11 cents.

The bookkeeper paused again. Ebenezer, frowning, reached for the book.
In his wife's fine faded writing were her accounts--after the eleven
cents was a funny little face with which she had been wont to illustrate
her let