One Saturday afternoon, after we had been paid off, Morse, the head of the department, whose job I had been eyeing enviously for five years now, called me into his office. For three minutes I saw all my hopes realized; for three minutes I walked dizzily with my whole life justified. I could hardly catch my breath as I followed him. I didn't realize until then how big a load I had been carrying. As a drowning man is said to see visions of his whole past life, I saw visions of my whole future. I saw Ruth's eager face lifted to mine as I told her the good news; I saw the boy taken from his commonplace surroundings and doing himself proud in some big preparatory school where he brushed up against a variety of other boys; I saw--God pity me for the fool I was--other children at home to take his place. I can say that for three minutes I have lived. Morse seated himself in the chair before his desk and, bending over his papers, talked without looking at me. He was a small fellow. I don't suppose a beefy man ever quite gets over a certain feeling of superiority before a small man. I could have picked up Morse in one hand. "Carleton," he began, "I've got to cut down your salary five hundred dollars." It came like a blow in the face. I don't think I answered. "Sorry," he added, "but Evans says he can double up on your work and offers to do it for two hundred dollars more." I repeated that name Evans over and over. He was the man under me. Then I saw my mistake. While watching the man ahead of me I had neglected to watch the man behind me. Evans and I had been good friends. I liked him. He was about twenty, and a hard worker. "Well?" said Morse. I recovered my wind. "Good God," I cried; "I can't live on any less than I'm getting now!" "Then you resign?" he asked quickly. For a second I saw red. I wanted to take this pigmy by the throat. I wanted to shake him. He didn't give me time before exclaiming: "Very well, Carleton. I'll give you an order for two weeks' pay in advance." The next thing I knew I was in the outer office with the order in my hand. I saw Evans at his desk. I guess I must have looked queer, for at first he shrank away from me. Then he came to my side. "Carleton," he said, "what's the matter?" "I guess you know," I answered. "You aren't fired?" I bucked up at this. I tried to speak naturally. "Yes," I said, "I'm fired." "But that isn't right, Carleton," he protested. "I didn't think it would come to that. I went to Morse and told him I wanted to get married and needed more money. He asked me if I thought I could do your work. I said yes. I'd have said yes if he'd asked me if I could do the president's work. But--come back and let me explain it to Morse." It was white of him, wasn't it? But I saw clearly enough that he was only fighting for his right to love as I was fighting for mine. I don't know that I should have been as generous as he was--ten years before. He had started toward the door when I called him back.