mpanionship of young people such as he
had known at home. There was a blur over one of the dates, the little
square that marked the twenty-fifth of December. It was a red-letter
day on the calendar, but in Alec's bare little room a holiday that
dragged its dismal length out toward dark, like a dull ache.

The box that had been sent him from home failed to reach him till the
next day. Standing with his hands in his pockets, looking out over
the snowy roofs of the city, he recalled all the merry Christmas days
at home, since the first time he and Flip had hung up their stockings
beside their grandfather's wide chimney-seat. This was the first time
he had ever missed following the old custom. The city seemed
overflowing with the joy and good-will of the Yuletide, yet none of
it was for him. He had never felt so utterly left out and alone in
all his life.

Despite his seventeen years, there was an ache in his throat that he
could not drive back, and when he laid down the calendar he had been
mechanically examining, although he whistled bravely, there was a
telltale blur on the page.

But there came a day when he tore off the leaf that was crossed with
the double black lines meaning debt and worry, and began a fresh
sheet which seemed to promise better days. A change of work came the
first of February, and a slight advance in wages. The manager, who
had kept a keen eye on him, was beginning to think that at last he
had found a boy who was worth training, and that if he proved as
efficient in every stage of his apprenticeship as he had in the
first, he would soon have the capable assistant that he had long been
in search of.

Alec's notification of his promotion was in the envelope which held
his check for the last week in January. He did not see it until he
stepped into the bank to have the check cashed, and in his delight
and surprise he could scarcely refrain from turning a handspring.

So many people were ahead of him that he had to stand several minutes
awaiting his turn at the little barred window. In that time he made
several rapid calculations on the back of the envelope.

"Can you give me five dollars of that in gold?" he asked of the
cashier when his turn finally came. With a nod of assent, the cashier
counted out several small bills, and laid a shining five-dollar gold
piece on top. Alec seized it eagerly and, thrusting the bills into
his pocket, walked out with the coin in his hand.

Long ago he had decid