even in the fresh breeze that swept the open field, even while
playing ball, even at home after a hot bath and clean clothing, Peter
could still scent the odor of the beamhouse. It was days before he
became accustomed to it and could feel, with Nat Jackson, that he was a
lucky boy to have a "job."

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IV

PETER'S MAIDEN SPEECH

Peter had been three weeks in the beamhouse and had in that time proved
himself so useful that his pay had been raised from six to six dollars
and a half a week. Very proud he was of his financial good fortune. With
few demands in the way of clothing he was now able to lay aside quite a
little sum toward the motorcycle he so much desired. The days at the
tannery passed more quickly. Nat Jackson became his chum and the two
lads were almost inseparable; they lunched together, played on the ball
team, and often spent their Saturday afternoons in taking long walks or
going to Nat's house. Peter, however, took great good care that Nat
should not visit him.

The omission of this hospitality was not entirely unnoticed by young
Jackson, and the conclusion he drew was that Peter lived humbly--perhaps
poorly--in lodgings to which he did not consider it suitable to invite a
guest. Nat thought this foolish pride on Peter's part and he meant to
tell him so some time when they became better acquainted. It was a
mistake, argued Nat, to be over-sensitive about one's poverty. If Peter
was saving his money surely that was excuse enough. He had a right to
live as he pleased. Furthermore what possible difference could it make
in their friendship? Nat himself lived simply but very nicely on the
meager salary that he earned. He and his mother rented two tiny
bedrooms, a sunny little living-room, and a microscopic kitchen in a
part of the town which, to be sure, was cheap and ugly; but Mrs.
Jackson, Peter soon found, was one of the rare women who could make a
home--a real home--almost anywhere. She often laughingly remarked that
if she were to dwell in a snow hovel at the North Pole she believed she
should cut a window in the side of it and set a pot of flowers there,
and Peter could well imagine her doing it.

She was a short, bright-eyed, motherly little person, with a quick
appreciation of a joke, and a wonderful knack at cooking. Incidentally
she had a quiet voice and chose soft colors in preference to crude ones.
Peter gathered from her manner of speech and from the delicate mo