dly entered the Tonsorial Parlor of Ed Mills and took my
seat in his marvellous chair--thus touching another high point on the
road to self-respecting manhood. My pleasure, however, was mixed with
ignoble childish terror, for not only did the barber seem determined to
force upon me a shampoo (which was ten cents extra), but I was in
unremitting fear lest I should lose my quarter, the only one I
possessed, and find myself accused as a swindler.

Nevertheless I came safely away, a neater, older and graver person,
walking with a manlier stride, and when I confronted my classmates at
the Grove school-house on Sunday, I gave evidence of an accession of
self-confidence. The fact that my back hair was now in fashionable order
was of greatest comfort to me. If only my trousers had not continued
their distressing habit of climbing up my boot-tops I would have been
almost at ease but every time I rose from my seat it became necessary to
make each instep smooth the leg of the other pantaloon, and even then
they kept their shameful wrinkles, and a knowledge of my exposed ankles
humbled me.

Burton, although better dressed than I, was quite as confused and
wordless in the presence of girls, but John Gammons was not only
confident, he was irritatingly facile. Furthermore, as son of the
director of the Sunday school he had almost too much distinction. I
bitterly resented his linen collars, his neat suit and his smiling
assurance, for while we professed to despise everything connected with
church, we were keenly aware of the bright eyes of Bettie and noted that
they rested often on John's curly head. He could sing, too, and
sometimes, with sublime audacity, held the hymn book with her.

The sweetness of those girlish faces held us captive through many a long
sermon, but there were times when not even their beauty availed. Three
or four of us occasionally slipped away into the glorious forest to pick
berries or nuts, or to loaf in the odorous shade of the elms along the
creek. The cool aisles of the oaks seemed more sweetly sanctifying
(after a week of sun-smit soil on the open plain) than the crowded
little church with its droning preacher, and there was something
mystical in the melody of the little brook and in the flecking of light
and shade across the silent woodland path.

To drink of the little ice-cold spring beneath the maple tree in
Frazer's pasture was almost as delight-giving as the plate of ice-cream
which we sometimes