o say that will help any," I said, "unless
it's what you wrote yourself on the blackboard down in the hall, 'Keep
busy and you'll keep happy.'"

He reached up for my hand, and rough and red as it was--having been in
the spring for so many years--he kissed it.

"Good for you, Minnie!" he said. "You're rational, and for a day or so
I haven't been. That's right, KEEP BUSY. I'll do it." He got up and put
his hands on my shoulders. "Good old pal, when you see me going around
as if all the devils of hell were tormenting me, just come up and say
that to me, will you?"

I promised, and he opened the door, candle in hand, and smiling.

"I'm a thousand per cent. better already," he said. "I just needed to
tell somebody, I think. I dare say I've made a lot more fuss than it
really deserves."

At the far end of the hall, a girl came out of one room, and carrying
a candle, went across to another. It was Miss Patty, going to bid her
father good night. When I left, he was still staring down the hall after
her, his candle dripping wax on the floor, and his face white. I guess
he hadn't overstated his case.

CHAPTER XXV

THE FIRST FRUITS

By Friday of that week you would hardly have known any of them. The fat
ones were thinner and the thin ones fatter, and Miss Julia Summers could
put her whole hand inside her belt.

And they were pleasant. They'd sit down to a supper of ham and eggs and
apple sauce, and yell for more apple sauce, and every evening in the
billiard room they got up two weighing pools, one for the ones who
wanted to reduce, and one for the people who wanted to gain. Everybody
put in a dollar, and at gymnasium hour the next morning the ones who'd
gained or lost the most won the pool. Mr. Thoburn won the losing pool on
Thursday and Friday--he didn't want to lose weight, but he was compelled
to under the circumstances. And I think worry helped him to it.

They fussed some still about sleeping with the windows open, especially
the bald-headed men. However, the bishop, who had been bald for thirty
years, was getting a fine down all over the top of his head, and this
encouraged the rest. The bishop says it is nature's instinct to protect
itself from cold--all animals have fur, and heavier fur in winter--and
he believed that it was the ultimate cure for baldness. Men lose their
hair on top, he said, because they wear hats, and so don't need it.
But let the top of the head need protection, and lo, hair comes t