“Sure, people buying things for school. Grouchy Greenway was in, he bought a lot of homework paper--pity the fellers in the third grade. Ruth Binney’s scared of that ladder that rolls along--oh bimbo, that’s my middle name. I can take a running jump and ride it all the way to the back of the store.” He did not mention that he played the harmonica for the girls to dance; he was a good sport and did not tell tales out of school. “I think Ruth and Annie Terris will miss you when you go to Montana,” said Mr. Walton playfully. “Such nonsense,” said Mrs. Walton. “Don’t put those ideas back into his head.” “I may go sooner than you think,” said Hervey. He stood in the doorway to the dining room, pausing before making his late evening attack on the apple barrel. A blithe, carefree figure he seemed, his eyes full of a kind of gay madness. One rebellious lock of hair sprawled over his forehead as he suddenly pulled off his outlandish hat in deference to his stepmother. He never remembered to do this as a regular duty; he remembered each time separately, and then with lightning inspiration. He could not for the life of him adapt his manners or phraseology to his elders. “You know me, Al,” he said. “Are you going to wash your face when you go in the kitchen?” Mrs. Walton inquired. “Sure, is there any pie?” he asked. They heard him fumbling in the kitchen, then trudging up the stairs. “I think it would be just as well not to harp on Montana,” said Mrs. Walton. “It’s odd how he hit on Montana.” “One place is as good as another,” said Mr. Walton. “I’m glad it’s Montana, it costs so much to get there. If he had Harlem in mind, or Coney Island, I might worry.” “He talks of them both,” said Mrs. Walton. “Yes, but I think his heart is in the big open spaces, where the fare is about a hundred dollars. If it were the Fiji Islands I’d be content.” “Do you think he’d like to go to Europe with us next summer?” Mrs. Walton asked. “I can’t bear to leave him alone.” “No, I’m afraid he’d want to dive from the Rock of Gibraltar,” said Mr. Walton. “He’ll be safe at Temple Camp.” “He seems to have just no balance-wheel,” Mrs. Walton mused. “When I look in his eyes it seems to me as if they saw joys, but never consequences.” “Sort of near-sighted in a way, eh?” “I do wish he had stayed in the Scouts, don’t you?” “No, I don’t,” said Mr. Walton in a matter-of-fact way. “He didn’t see it. Some day he’ll see it, but it won’t be because anybody tells him. The only way Hervey can learn that a tree is high is for him to fall out of it. That’s what I mean by his being near-sighted in a way.” “Do you think those railroad workers are a good set?” “Oh, they’re a good lot; good, strong men.” “Well, I don’t care for that Hinkey, do you?”