school was out and the children were streaming along the
street. The air was full of their chatter. Henry Edgecomb came up
behind him with a good-morning. He looked worn and nervous. Anderson
looked at him sharply after his greeting.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing, only I am tired out," Edgecomb replied, wearily. "Sometimes
I envy you."

"Don't," said Anderson.

"I do. This friction with new souls and temperaments is wearing my
old one thin. I would rather sell butter and cheese."

"Rather do anything than desert the battle-field you have chosen,
because you are beaten," said Anderson, with sudden bitterness.

"Nonsense! You are not beaten."

"Yes, I am."

"You have simply taken up new weapons."

"Weights and balances," said Anderson, but his laugh was bitter.

He left Edgecomb at the corner, and, going up his own street,
reflected again. He began to wonder if possibly he would not have
done better to have stuck to his profession; if he could not have
left Banbridge and tried elsewhere--in the City. He wondered if he
had shown energy and manly ambition, if he had not been
poor-spirited. When he reached home his mother eyed him anxiously and
asked if he were ill.

"No," he said, "but I met Henry, and he looks wretchedly."

"He hasn't enough to eat," Mrs. Anderson said. "Harriet does not give
him enough to eat. It is a shame. If I were in his place I would get
married."

"He says he is tired out teaching. He talks about the friction of so
many natures on his."

"Of course there is a friction," said Mrs. Anderson, "but he could
stand it if he had more to eat. Let us have a dinner next Sunday
night; let us have a roast turkey and a pudding. We will have lunch
at noon. Henry is very fond of turkey, and it is late enough to get
good ones."

"Shall we ask Harriet?" inquired Anderson, with a lurking mischief.

His mother looked at him with quick suspicion. "You don't want her
asked?" she said.

"Why should she be asked? She never is."

"I don't know but with an extra dinner--"

"She has her mission," Mrs. Anderson said, with firmness. "You are
eating nothing yourself, Randolph." Presently she looked at her son
with an inscrutable expression. "Are the Carrolls all gone?" she
asked.

Anderson cut himself a bit of beefsteak carefully before replying.
"Some of them, I believe," said he.

"I heard Mrs. Carroll and her sister and daughter and the boy all
went yesterday morning. Josie Egglest