To Robb, the vegetable-man also wrote, and to A. P. Henty at his home
village.

Sunday night Lizzie Japers again fluttered her ribbons, and dropped a
hint about church. Afraid of losing his job, Evan accepted the bait
and walked with the fair Liz toward the altar. It must have been hard
for the organist to keep his fingers off a wedding march when he saw,
in his mirror, the pair walking up the aisle.

Days sped again. June was come. Blossoms were falling and berries
grew larger on the vines and bushes. A forwarded note came from
Hometon, rejoicing in the promotion Mrs. Nelson had read between the
lines of her son's letter, and in the miraculous recuperation spoken
of. Lou had enclosed a slip of paper confiding to her brother the
opinion that she should have a fellow, being now eighteen, and asking
him to seek out an eligible and bring him home for the summer holidays.
There was no word from Frankie. A fat, scrawly letter came from Henty.

"Dear Evan," it said, "after you left Banfield, old Penton was like a
bear-cat. He tore around the office like something with the pip, took
to chewing tobacco and spitting in the waste-baskets, and raised proper
---- with the pups. He came up to me one day with Uncle Harry looking
out of his eyes and gave me a short biography of myself. I stood it as
long as I could, and then I seemed to be pitching in an exciting ball
game. My right hand shot out, and before I knew it Penton was lying
down at my feet. When he got up he almost cried, and tried to tell me
he was just fooling. I noticed that night that the guns were missing
from the cage drawer, and fearing that Penton had them in store for me,
I packed my grip and beat it. A fellow's foolish to take a chance with
a guy like W. W. My father was glad to have me home. He consulted a
lawyer about my bond, and the lawyer said the bank wouldn't dare do
anything about it under the circumstances; he said it would make too
much of a stir and would hurt business. I imagine they'll fire Penton
over the head of it; but I hope Filter doesn't lose his job--it would
kill him. I wish you were farming like me; it feels mighty good after
office work. Write soon. A. P."

When his muscles had grown until he felt the vigor of school days
returning, Evan began to look higher than rhubarb and asparagus tops;
he even looked beyond the Mountain, and saw himself in an easy chair
with a telephone at his elbow and a stenographer in front