s on the make, and don't you forgit it.
Some fellers allers has luck. Many 's the time he 'n' I 've been in
swim-min' and hookin' apples together when we wuz little chaps," pursued
Bill, in a tone implying a mild reproach at the deceitfulness of
an analogy that after such fair promise in early life had failed to
complete itself in their later fortunes.

"Why, darn it all, you know him, Jim," he continued, dropping the tone
of pensive reminiscence into which he had momentarily allowed himself to
fall. "That pretty gal that sings in the Baptis' choir is his sister."

After a space of silent rumination and jerking of peanut shells upon
the track, the group broke up its session, and adjourned by tacit
understanding till the next train was due.

Arthur Steele was half an hour in getting to his father's house, because
everybody he met on the street insisted on shaking hands with him.
Everybody in Fairfield had known him since he was a boy, and had seen
him grow up, and all were proud of him as a credit to the village and
one of its most successful representatives in the big outside world. The
young man had sense and sentiment enough to feel that the place he held
in the esteem of his native community was a thing to feel more just
pride in than any station he could win in the city, and as he walked
along hand-shaking with old friends on this side and that, it was about
his idea of a triumphal entry.

There was the dear old house, and as he saw it his memory of it started
out vividly in his mind as if to attest how faithfully it had kept each
detail. It never would come out so clearly at times when he was far away
and needed its comfort. He opened the door softly. The sitting-room was
empty, and darkened to keep out the heat and flies. The latched door
stood open, and, hearing voices, he tiptoed across the floor with a
guileful smile and, leaning through the doorway, saw his mother and
sister sitting by the cool, lilac-shaded window, picking over currants
for tea, and talking tranquilly. Being a provident young man, he paused
a minute to let the pretty, peaceful scene impress itself upon his mind,
to be remembered afterward for the cheer of bleak boarding-house
Sunday afternoons. Then there was a sudden glancing up, a cry of joyful
consternation, and the pan of currants rolled from Amy's lap like a
broken necklace of rubies across the uncarpeted floor, while Arthur held
mother and sister in a double embrace. And when at leng