n enough. He knew about those
"little spells." Oddly enough Laban seemed to feel sorry for them. He
remembered how funny the bookkeeper had appeared at their first meeting,
when one "spell" was just developing, and the contrast between the
singing, chirruping clown and the precise, grave little person at the
desk struck even his youthful mind as peculiar. He had read "Doctor
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," and now here was an example of something similar.
He was beginning to like Laban Keeler, although he was perfectly sure
that he should never like bookkeeping.

He did not slave at the books all the time, of course. For stretches,
sometimes lasting whole days, his slavery was of another sort. Then he
was working in the lumber yard with Issachar, or waiting on customers in
the hardware shop. The cold of winter set in in earnest now and handling
"two by fours" and other timber out where the raw winds swept piercingly
through one's overcoat and garments and flesh to the very bone was a
trying experience. His hands were chapped and cracked, even though his
grandmother had knit him a pair of enormous red mittens. He appreciated
the warmth of the mittens, but he hated the color. Why in the name of
all that was inartistic did she choose red; not a deep, rich crimson,
but a screeching vermilion, like a fireman's shirt?

Issachar, when he had the opportunity, was a hard boss. It suited Mr.
Price to display his superior knowledge and to find fault with his
helper's lack of skill. Albert's hot temper was at the boiling point
many times, but he fought it down. Occasionally he retorted in kind, but
his usual and most effective weapon was a more or less delicate sarcasm.
Issachar did not understand sarcasm and under rapid fire he was inclined
to lose his head.

"Consarn it!" he snapped, irritably, on one occasion. "Consarn it,
Al, why don't you h'ist up on t'other end of that j'ist? What do you
cal'late you're out here along of me for; to look harnsome?"

Albert shook his head. "No, Is," he answered, gravely. "No, that
wouldn't be any use. With you around nobody else has a look-in at the
'handsome' game. Issy, what do you do to your face?"

"Do to it? What do you mean by do to it?"

"What do you do to it to make it look the way it does? Don't tell me it
grew that way naturally."

"Grew! Course it grew! What kind of talk's that?"

"Issy, with a face like yours how do you keep the birds away?"

"Eh? Keep the birds away! Now look here,