Winslow," he exclaimed,
"you beat me! I can't place you at all. Whoever would have
accused you of reading poetry--and quoting it."

Jed rubbed his chin. "I don't know much, of course," he said, "but
there's consider'ble many poetry books up to the library and I like
to read 'em sometimes. You're liable to run across a--er--poem--
well, like this one, for instance--that kind of gets hold of you.
It fills the bill, you might say, as nothin' else does. There's
another one that's better still. About--

'Once to every man and nation
Comes the moment to decide.

Do you know that one?"

His visitor did not answer. After a moment he swung himself from
the workbench and turned toward the door.

"'He either fears his fate too much,'" he quoted, gloomily.
"Humph! I wonder if it ever occurred to that chap that there might
be certain kinds of fate that COULDN'T be feared too much? . . .
Well, so long, Jed. Ah hum, you don't know where I can get hold of
some money, do you?"

Jed was surprised. "Humph!" he grunted. "I should say you HAD
hold of money two-thirds of every day. Feller that works in a bank
is supposed to handle some cash."

"Yes, of course," with an impatient laugh, "but that is somebody
else's money, not mine. I want to get some of my own."

"Sho! . . . Well, I cal'late I could let you have ten or twenty
dollars right now, if that would be any help to you."

"It wouldn't; thank you just the same. If it was five hundred
instead of ten, why--perhaps I shouldn't say no."

Jed was startled.

"Five hundred?" he repeated. "Five hundred dollars? Do you need
all that so very bad, Charlie?"

Phillips, his foot upon the threshold of the outer shop, turned and
looked at him.

"The way I feel now I'd do almost anything to get it," he said, and
went out.

Jed told no one of this conversation, although his friend's parting
remark troubled and puzzled him. In fact it troubled him so much
that at a subsequent meeting with Charles he hinted to the latter
that he should be glad to lend the five hundred himself.

"I ought to have that and some more in the bank," he said. "Sam
would know whether I had or not. . . . Eh? Why, and you would,
too, of course. I forgot you know as much about folks' bank
accounts as anybody. . . . More'n some of 'em do themselves,
bashfulness stoppin' me from namin' any names," he added.

Charles looked at him. "Do you mean to tell me, Jed Winslow,