an advertisement for a position as bookkeeper--saying
nothing about recommendations--he waited around the Star office with a
crowd of other work-seekers until the afternoon edition emanated from
the large mouth of a small newsboy. He felt more like crawling away in
some alley and dying than hunting a job, but he was anxious to
obliterate the bank from his mind; and besides, he wanted to have
another situation before writing home that he had quit the bank.

Evan did not have the faintest intention of telling his people he had
been fired. They would not understand it, he knew. How could they
understand such medieval work? This was not a day of inquisitions or
guillotines! But when he was established in a better position than the
one he had left, it would be easy to explain that he had resigned. He
knew that his father was not much in favor of banking anyway.

The first ad that attracted the ex-clerk belonged to an abattoir
company near the lake-front. He wasted no time in getting to their
office.

"Where have you been working?" asked the manager.

"In the S---- Bank," replied Evan.

"Why did you leave?"

"My salary was too small."

"Well, I believe you will be all right. Just drop in to-morrow morning
at nine o'clock, Mr. Nelson, and I think I can put you to work."

The salary was to be eight dollars a week with good opportunities for
advancement. The slaughter-house smelt quite pleasant to Evan as he
passed it on his way to the car. He felt joyful at heart, and hopeful
for the future.

But, oh, that head, how it ached! What sense was there in drinking to
drown sorrow when a fellow suffered so the day after? His stomach was
sick, and he couldn't endure the sight of a wine-shop. After all, he
thought, the liquor was not a drowner of sorrow, but a procrastinator;
and, as in the case of postponed debts, interest was added.

Robb was in their room when Evan arrived at Mrs. Greig's boarding-house.

"Well," said the old bankclerk, "how do you feel now?"

"No more booze for me," replied Evan, smiling.

Robb answered with a smile. "I'm glad you're not worrying anyway, old
chap. Things will be all right before long."

"The reason I'm not worrying," said Evan, "is because I've got another
job. I go on in the morning."

He explained about the abattoir company's offer.

"Well, you're the limit! What salary?"

"Eight a week. They asked me where I'd been working, and why I left."

Robb asked quic