exclaimed. "Why, no, 'tain't! If 'twas I'd have known it,
wouldn't I? Who'd you hear had got it? Whoever you heard, 'tain't so."

"Yes, it is."

"How do you know? Who is it, then?"

I hesitated. Before noon of the next day every soul in Denboro would
have heard the news. Eldredge might as well hear it now.

"I've taken the place myself," I said.

"You?" Sim actually forgot to whisper; he shouted the word. "YOU! Ha!
ha! ha! Ros, quit your foolin'."

"I'm not fooling. I go to work in the bank to-morrow morning."

"But--Oh, my soul! You! Aw, I know better! Say, Ros, don't let's waste
time like this. Fun's all right, but . . . My heavens to Betsy! YOU work
for a livin'! If I believed that I'd believe anything. Tell me, now. Who
has got that job? . . . Why don't you answer me?"

I answered him. "Shut up!" I said, fiercely. Then I vaulted the fence
and set out for home across lots.

I heard the next day that Sim went back to the post-office and informed
the gathering there that Ros Paine had taken to drinking.

"He was tight as a biled owl," declared Sim; "and ugly--don't talk!
Wanted to fight me because I wouldn't believe he was goin' to work. Him!
What in the everlastin' would HE want to work for? My heavens to Betsy!"

CHAPTER XIII

I think Taylor was almost as surprised as Eldredge had been, when, at
half-past eight the following morning, I appeared at the bank. He was
already at his desk and, when he looked up and saw me, he whistled.

"Whew!" he exclaimed. "So. I didn't dream it, after all. You're here,
ain't you."

"I am here," I answered, opening the gate and stepping in behind the
rail.

"Going to take it back and say you never said it?"

"No."

"Come to go to work? Really?"

"That is my intention, unless you have changed your mind."

"Not me. It ain't likely. But, Ros, I--sit down a minute and let's talk.
What are you doing this for?"

It was a question I had been asking myself at intervals during a
restless night. Now I gave the only truthful answer.

"I don't know," I said.

"You don't know!"

"No. And I don't seem to care. Suppose we don't talk about it. I am
here, and I am ready to begin work. That's enough, isn't it?"

"Why, no; not quite. You're not doing it just to help me out?"

"No."

"You don't need to work. You've got money enough."

"No, I haven't. But money isn't my reason. I haven't any reason. Now
show me the books, will you?"

"Don't be in a hurry. What does