dark to find her stocking. Evan
slept on. His sister peeked into his room at daylight, hoping to find
him conscious; but he breathed so satisfactorily she overcame the
temptation to frighten him awake. Mrs. Nelson would not allow anyone
to disturb him until breakfast was set, then she went herself to his
room.

In his dreams he heard his mother calling him, and it seemed to be away
back in irresponsible days.

"Yes," he answered unconsciously, "I'm up, mother!"

Mrs. Nelson enjoyed his dozing prevarication. It made her forget that
he was no longer a sleep-loving schoolboy. She went quietly to his
bedside and laid a hand on his forehead. His eyes opened.

"How are you this morning?" she asked.

"All right mother, thanks. Is it late?"

She told him breakfast was ready, and he jumped out of bed, whistling
with surprise.

"I guess I'd better go," she laughed, when he seemed to forget the
presence of a lady.

"Oh, that's all right," he said, cheerily. He was feeling good after a
night's sleep in the bed of his boyhood.

Mr. Nelson was waiting anxiously in the kitchen--they always
breakfasted there in winter--for Evan and breakfast. The former soon
arrived, and the latter was then ready.

"Bon jour," said the father, without nasal and with a hard "j."

"Good morning, George," laughed Evan, using a phrase then popular in
the "funny" papers.

Our Banker led the way to table.

"I'm as hungry as a cougar," he said.

Lou regarded him in consternation. "Why, Evan," she cried, "haven't
you forgotten something?"

He looked at her blankly. "What?"

"I got mine before daylight," holding up her stocking.

"Oh," he grinned; "I've been away so long I forgot there ever was such
a thing as Christmas."

"By the way," asked his father, "how did you spend your last?"

"Working," said Evan.

The mother sighed softly.

"You look as though that's all you ever did," continued Mr. Nelson.

"Oh, no," said Evan, promptly, "I've had some good times since that
Sunday, a year and a half ago, that I spent here. I have had it sort
of tough lately and maybe I'm a little run down, but things will ease
off after awhile."

It is characteristic of the bankman that he lives on the hope that work
will fall off. Someone is always telling him, as he is always telling
himself, that things will slacken; but, somehow or other, the strings
stay taut.

Evan was quite a different lad now from the schoolboy who first came
h