ace, would not
have behaved as she had done. No spite, no sarcasm, no taunts, no
unpleasant reminders of things said only a few months before. And with
all her forgiveness and forbearance and understanding there had been
always that sense of greater age and wisdom; she had treated him as she
might have treated a boy, younger brother, perhaps.

"She IS older than I am," he thought, "even if she really isn't. It's
funny, but it's a fact."

December came and Christmas, and then January and the new year, the year
1917. In January, Z. Snow and Co. took its yearly account of stock, and
Captain Lote and Laban and Albert and Issachar were truly busy during
the days of stock-taking week and tired when evening came. Laban worked
the hardest of the quartette, but Issy made the most fuss about it.
Labe, who had chosen the holiday season to go on one of his periodical
vacations, as rather white and shaky and even more silent than usual.
Mr. Price, however, talked with his customary fluency and continuity, so
there was no lack of conversation. Captain Zelotes was moved to comment.

"Issy," he suggested gravely, looking up from a long column of figures,
"did you ever play 'Door'?"

Issachar stared at him.

"Play 'Door'?" he repeated. "What's that?"

"It's a game. Didn't you ever play it?"

"No, don't know's I ever did."

"Then you'd better begin right this minute. The first thing to do is to
shut up and the next is to stay that way. You play 'Door' until I tell
you to do somethin' else; d'you hear?"

At home the week between Christmas and the New Year was rather dismal.
Mr. Keeler's holiday vacation had brought on one of his fiancee's
"sympathetic attacks," and she tied up her head and hung crape upon
her soul, as usual. During these attacks the Snow household walked on
tiptoe, as if the housekeeper were an invalid in reality. Even consoling
speeches from Albert, who with Laban when the latter was sober, enjoyed
in her mind the distinction of being the reincarnation of "Robert
Penfold," brought no relief to the suffering Rachel. Nothing but the
news brought by the milkman, that "Labe was taperin' off," and would
probably return to his desk in a few days, eased her pain.

One forenoon about the middle of the month Captain Zelotes himself
stopped in at the post office for the morning mail. When he returned to
the lumber company's building he entered quietly and walked to his own
desk with a preoccupied air. For the half hour