ear to hold a grudge against his conqueror; on
the contrary when others spoke of the latter as a "sissy," Sam defended
him. "He may be a dude," said Sam; "I don't say he ain't. But he ain't
no sissy."

When pressed to tell why he was so certain, his answer was: "Because he
don't act like one." It was not a convincing answer, the general opinion
being that that was exactly how Al Speranza did act.

There was one young person in the village toward whom Albert found
himself making exceptions in his attitude of serenely impersonal
tolerance. That person was Helen Kendall, the girl who had come into his
grandfather's office the first morning of his stay in South Harniss. He
was forced to make these exceptions by the young lady herself. When he
met her the second time--which was after church on his first Sunday--his
manner was even more loftily reserved than usual. He had distinct
recollections of their first conversation. His own part in it had not
been brilliant, and in it he had made the absurd statement--absurd in
the light of what came after--that he was certainly NOT employed by Z.
Snow and Co.

So he was cool and superior when his grandmother brought them together
after the meeting was over. If Helen noticed the superiority, she was
certainly not over-awed by it, for she was so simple and natural and
pleasant that he was obliged to unbend and be natural too. In fact,
at their third meeting he himself spoke of the interview in the
lumber office and again expressed his thanks for warning him of his
grandfather's detestation of cigarettes.

"Gee!" he exclaimed, "I'm certainly glad that you put me on to the old
boy's feelings. I think he'd have murdered me if he had come back and
found me puffing a Pall Mall in there."

She smiled. "He does hate them, doesn't he?" she said.

"Hate them! I should say he did. Hating cigarettes is about the only
point where he and Issy get along without an argument. If a traveler for
a hardware house comes into the office smoking a cig, Issy opens all the
windows to let the smell out, and Grandfather opens the door to throw
the salesman out. Well, not exactly to throw him out, of course, but he
never buys a single cent's worth of a cigarette smoker."

Helen glanced at him. "You must be awfully glad you're not a traveling
salesman," she said demurely.

Albert did not know exactly what to make of that remark. He, in his
turn, looked at her, but she was grave and quite unconcerned.

"