In all the village, there were only three men, whom Aurora Googe named friend. These men, with the intimacy born of New England's community of interest, called her to her face by her Christian name; they were Octavius Buzzby, old Joel Quimber, and Colonel Caukins. There had been one other, Louis Champney, who during his lifetime promised to do much for her boy when he should have come of age; but as the promises were never committed to black and white, they were, after his death, as though they had never been. "If only Aunt Meda would fork over some of hers!" Champney exclaimed with irritation. They were sitting on the porch after tea. "All I want is a seat in the Stock Exchange--and the chance to start in. I believe if I had the money Mr. Van Ostend would help me to that." "You didn't say anything to him about your plans, did you?" "Well, no; not exactly. But it isn't every fellow gets a chance to dine at such a man's table, and I thought the opportunity was too good to be wasted entirely. I let him know in a quiet way that I, like every other fellow, was looking for a job." Champney laughed aloud at the shocked look on his mother's face. He knew her independence of thought and action; it brooked no catering for favors. "You see, mother, men _have_ to do it, or go under. It's about one chance in ten thousand that a man gets what he wants, and it's downright criminal to throw away a good opportunity to get your foot on a round. Run the scaling ladder up or down, it doesn't much matter--there are hundreds of applicants for every round; and only one man can stand on each--and climb, as I mean to. You don't get this point of view up here, mother, but you will when you see the development of these great interests. Then it will be each for himself and the devil gets the hindermost. Shouldn't I take every legitimate means to forge ahead? You heard what the priest said about Mr. Van Ostend's mentioning me to him? Let me tell you such men don't waste one breath in mentioning anything that does not mean a big interest per cent, _not one breath_. They can't, literally, afford to; and I'm hoping, only hoping, you know--", he looked up at her from his favorite seat on the lowest step of the front porch with a keen hard expectancy in his eyes that belied his words, "--that what he said to Father Honore means something definite. Anyhow, we'll wait a while till we see how the syndicate takes hold of this quarry business before we decide on anything, won't we, mother?" "I'm willing to wait as long as you like if you will only promise me one thing." "What's that?" He rose and faced her; she saw that he was slightly on the defensive. "That you will never, _never_, in any circumstances, apply to your Aunt Almeda for funds, no matter how much you may want them. I couldn't bear that!"