“Give somebody else a chance, will you?” interrupted Sammy Parr, and coolly shouldered the older man aside. “Come over here, Oliver, I want to introduce you to the bride-elect. She came here to live after you went away, and she’s crazy to meet you. Just a minute, Mr. Link. Plenty of time—plenty of time. Don’t crowd! Ladies first—ladies first.” “Where is Jane, Mr. Sage?” inquired Oliver October, when he had a breathing spell. He was searching the outer edge of the throng with eager, happy eyes. “She is up at your father’s house, Oliver, helping Mrs. Grimes and Annie with your home-coming dinner,” replied the minister, still gripping the young man’s hand. “It is good to see you, my boy—God bless you.” “I’ve never forgotten the things you said to me the day I went away, Uncle Herbert. I’ve led a pretty clean life, sir, and I’ve never done anything I’m ashamed of. I’ve done a lot of things I’ve been sorry for—but nothing to be ashamed of.” He leaned close to the other’s ear and said in a low, whimsical tone: “Don’t let it get to the ears of my other uncles, but I’d hate to tell you how many times I’ve thanked the Lord and you for those sparring lessons you gave me.” “‘The Lord loveth a cheerful giver,’” quoth the Reverend Mr. Sage dryly. On the way up to the old home, Oliver’s father, waiting until he saw a clear stretch of road ahead, turned from the steering wheel of his brand new Ford, and, eyeing his son narrowly, said: “Yes, sir, you’ve surely got my nose, and you’ve almost got my hair. If you was to let your mustache grow I guess it would be a good deal like mine used to be. You’ve made a success of everything so far, from all reports, and now, darn it all, they’ve got you started in politics with this appointment. I fought it tooth and nail, but they argued me down, claiming it can’t be a political job so long as both parties want you to take—” “You needn’t worry about that, father. I’ll not accept the position.” Mr. Baxter brightened. “You won’t? Good for you! That’ll show Joe Sikes and Silas Link they can’t run everything.” “I have other plans. I will tell you about them later on, father.” “Of course, you’re a good deal taller and heavier than I am,” went on Mr. Baxter, staring ahead. “You don’t take after me when it comes to size and build. Been out in the open a good bit, I see. It’s done you a lot of good.” He shot a glance at his son’s rugged, tanned face. “Yes, and your eyes are clear and bright. I guess you haven’t done much drinking or staying up late o’ nights.” “I don’t drink very much—very little, in fact. Never have. In my business a fellow has to have his wits about him. As for being up late nights, I have seen many a night when I didn’t go to bed at all.” “That sounds bad,” said Mr. Baxter sourly. “I don’t see how it could help interfering with your work.” “It didn’t interfere with it. You see, I was working all night.” “Extra pay?” “No, sir. Just extra work.”