bly he wondered what They were saying of him. All day
long in imaginary conversations he caught them marveling, "Babbitt?
Why, say, he's a regular anarchist! You got to admire the fellow for his
nerve, the way he turned liberal and, by golly, just absolutely runs his
life to suit himself, but say, he's dangerous, that's what he is, and
he's got to be shown up."

He was so twitchy that when he rounded a corner and chanced on two
acquaintances talking--whispering--his heart leaped, and he stalked
by like an embarrassed schoolboy. When he saw his neighbors Howard
Littlefield and Orville Jones together, he peered at them, went indoors
to escape their spying, and was miserably certain that they had been
whispering--plotting--whispering.

Through all his fear ran defiance. He felt stubborn. Sometimes he
decided that he had been a very devil of a fellow, as bold as Seneca
Doane; sometimes he planned to call on Doane and tell him what a
revolutionist he was, and never got beyond the planning. But just as
often, when he heard the soft whispers enveloping him he wailed, "Good
Lord, what have I done? Just played with the Bunch, and called down
Clarence Drum about being such a high-and-mighty sodger. Never catch ME
criticizing people and trying to make them accept MY ideas!"

He could not stand the strain. Before long he admitted that he would
like to flee back to the security of conformity, provided there was a
decent and creditable way to return. But, stubbornly, he would not be
forced back; he would not, he swore, "eat dirt."

Only in spirited engagements with his wife did these turbulent fears
rise to the surface. She complained that he seemed nervous, that
she couldn't understand why he did not want to "drop in at the
Littlefields'" for the evening. He tried, but he could not express to
her the nebulous facts of his rebellion and punishment. And, with Paul
and Tanis lost, he had no one to whom he could talk. "Good Lord, Tinka
is the only real friend I have, these days," he sighed, and he clung to
the child, played floor-games with her all evening.

He considered going to see Paul in prison, but, though he had a pale
curt note from him every week, he thought of Paul as dead. It was Tanis
for whom he was longing.

"I thought I was so smart and independent, cutting Tanis out, and I need
her, Lord how I need her!" he raged. "Myra simply can't understand. All
she sees in life is getting along by being just like other folks. B