This did not long sustain his drooping spirit. He was mentally adrift upon the _Hints and Helps to Young Men in Business and Social Relations_, which had suggested to him his present enterprise, when the appearance of a second youth, taller and broader than himself, with a shock of light curling hair and a crop of freckles that advertised a rich soil threw him a lifeline. He put his thumbs to his lips and whistled in a peculiarly ear-splitting way. The two boys had sat on the same bench at Sunday-school not three hours before; yet what a change had come over the world for one of them since then! “Hello! Where you goin’, Ab?” asked the newcomer, gruffly. “Callin’,” replied the boy in the collar, laconically, but with carefully averted gaze. “On the girls?” inquired the other, awestruck. In Mount Pisgah you saw the girls home from night church, socials, or parties; you could hang over the gate; and you might walk with a girl in the cemetery of a Sunday afternoon; but to ring a front-door bell and ask for Miss Heart’s Desire one must have been in long trousers at least three years—and the two boys confronted in the dusty road had worn these dignifying garments barely six months. “Girls,” said Abner, loftily; “I don’t know about girls—I’m just going to call on one girl—Champe Claiborne.” He marched on as though the conversation was at an end; but Ross hung upon his flank. Ross and Champe were neighbors, comrades in all sorts of mischief; he was in doubt whether to halt Abner and pummel him, or propose to enlist under his banner. “Do you reckon you could?” he debated, trotting along by the irresponsive Jilton boy. “Run home to your mother,” growled the originator of the plan, savagely. “You ain’t old enough to call on girls; anybody can see that; but I am, and I’m going to call on Champe Claiborne.” Again the name acted as a spur on Ross. “With your collar and boots all dirty?” he jeered. “They won’t know you’re callin’.” The boy in the road stopped short in his dusty tracks. He was an intense creature, and he whitened at the tragic insinuation, longing for the wholesome stay and companionship of freckle-faced Ross. “I put the dirt on o’ purpose so’s to look kind of careless,” he half whispered, in an agony of doubt. “S’pose I’d better go into your house and try to wash it off? Reckon your mother would let me?” “I’ve got two clean collars,” announced the other boy, proudly generous. “I’ll lend you one. You can put it on while I’m getting ready. I’ll tell mother that we’re just stepping out to do a little calling on the girls.”