window so often
that morning. All his belongings were in Aunt Polly's best bedroom,
having been moved over from the Eagle while he and David had been in the
office. A delightful room it was, in immeasurable contrast to his
squalid surroundings at that hostelry. The spacious bed, with its snowy
counterpane and silk patchwork "comf'table" folded on the foot, the
bright fire in the open stove, the big bureau and glass, the soft
carpet, the table for writing and reading standing in the bay, his books
on the broad mantel, and his dressing things laid out ready to his hand,
not to mention an ample supply of _dry_ towels on the rack.

The poor fellow's life during the weeks which he had lived in Homeville
had been utterly in contrast with any previous experience. Nevertheless
he had tried to make the best of it, and to endure the monotony, the
dullness, the entire lack of companionship and entertainment with what
philosophy he could muster. The hours spent in the office were the best
part of the day. He could manage to find occupation for all of them,
though a village bank is not usually a scene of active bustle. Many of
the people who did business there diverted him somewhat, and most of
them seemed never too much in a hurry to stand around and talk the sort
of thing that interested them. After John had got acquainted with his
duties and the people he came in contact with, David gave less personal
attention to the affairs of the bank; but he was in and out frequently
during the day, and rarely failed to interest his cashier with his
observations and remarks.

But the long winter evenings had been very bad. After supper, a meal
which revolted every sense, there had been as many hours to be got
through with as he found wakeful, an empty stomach often adding to the
number of them, and the only resource for passing the time had been
reading, which had often been well-nigh impossible for sheer physical
discomfort. As has been remarked, the winter climate of the middle
portion of New York State is as bad as can be imagined. His light was a
kerosene lamp of half-candle power, and his appliance for warmth
consisted of a small wood stove, which (as David would have expressed
it) "took two men an' a boy" to keep in action, and was either red hot
or exhausted.

As from the depths of a spacious lounging chair he surveyed his new
surroundings, and contrasted them with those from which he had been
rescued out of pure kindness, his heart