l the
man who wants to die. I think you're right, doctor; Nelson needs a
dose of farming. I have it, Evan! .... I know a fine fellow on a fruit
and vegetable farm near Hamilton. He'll be tickled to death to have
you, as long as you want to stay; and you'll save money, too."

"A good idea," added the physician, to whose profession money usually
looks good.

In a day or two Evan was ready to go in search of health. A telegram
from Robb to the Hamilton man brought a phone response that fixed a
salary of thirty dollars a month with board. It looked like a fortune
to the ex-bankclerk, and he was eager to begin work.

"Before I go, Mr. Robb," he said, somewhat backwardly, "I want to ask
you to do something for me."

"Name it," said Sam.

"I don't want my folks to know I'm out of the bank. If they knew I was
farming for my health they'd be offended because I didn't go to
Hometon. But I can't bear the thoughts of going back home
down-and-out---you know how it is."

Sam nodded. "I understand how you feel about it."

"Well, I'm going to forward the weekly letter I write to mother and let
you re-mail it from Toronto, addressed on the typewriter. I'll only be
a month getting in shape, and then I'll have an office job somewhere."

An "office job" embodied Evan's conception of success, as it did that
of his relatives, and many another golden-calf worshipper. He had yet
to be weaned.

"I'll do it, my lad," replied Robb, cheerfully; "now then, off with
you. And don't forget to write. If, after a month or so, I run across
anything in town that I think would appeal to you, I'll wire. Japers
lives right in the suburbs of Hamilton, and has a telephone."

The "T. H. & B." carried westward a considerably happier mortal than
had been in Evan Nelson's shoes for many a day.

Japers' farm showed up to advantage on a fine May morning. So did his
daughter, Lizzie. She was plump, pretty, and peasant-like. Her
efforts to sneak cream and sugar into the new "hand's" tea a second and
third time were evidence of her normal good nature, if nothing more.

The first day out the ex-bankclerk did not do much. He was busy
admiring the symmetry of gardens and orchards, though not of daughters.
In his part of the country those who took any interest in fruit raising
allowed the trees to grow up, out, and into each other without
molestation, believing in the ever-lasting benevolence of Providence
and the frailty of pests; with the