Will came in and sat down on the edge of a big wooden box which contained the harness. In the four years he had changed but little in appearance, though his slim figure had shot up rapidly in height. His chestnut hair grew in high peaks from his temples and swept in a single lock above his small, sparkling eyes, which held an expression of intelligent animation. On the whole, it was not an unpleasing face, despite the tremulous droop of the mouth, already darkened by the faint beginning of a brown mustache. "Oh, Molly Peterkin stopped me in the road," he replied readily. "I'd caught her eye once or twice before, but this was the first chance we'd had to speak. I tell you she's a peach, Christopher." Christopher came down from the ladder and spread the straw evenly in the horses' stalls. "So they say," he responded; "but I haven't much of an eye for women, you know. Now, when it comes to judging a leaf of tobacco, I'm a match for any man." "Well, one can't be everything," remarked Will consolingly. He snatched at a piece of straw that had fallen on the lowest rung of the ladder and began idly chewing it. "As for me I know a blamed sight more about women than I do about tobacco," he added, with a swagger. Christopher glanced up, and at sight of the boyish figure burst into a hearty laugh. "Oh, you're a jolly old sport, I know, and to think that Tom Spade has been accusing me of leading you astray! Why, you are already twice the man that I am." "Pshaw! That's just grandpa's chatter! The old man rails at me day and night about you until it's a mortal wonder he doesn't drive me to the dogs outright. I'd like to see another fellow that would put up with it for a week. Captain Morrison told him, you know, that I hadn't done a peg of study for a year, and it brought on a scene that almost shook the roof. Now he swears I'm to go to the university next fall or hang." "Well, I'd go, by all means." "What under heaven could I do there? All those confounded languages Morrison poured into my head haven't left so much as a single letter of the alphabet. Ad nauseam is all I learned of Latin. I tell you I'd rather be a storekeeper any time than a scholar--books make me sick all over--and, when it comes to that, I don't believe I know much more to-day than you do." A smile crossed Christopher's face, leaving it very grim. The words recalled to him his own earlier ambition--that of the gentlemanly scholar of the old order--and there flickered before his eyes the visionary library, suffused with firelight, and the translation of the "Iliad" he had meant to finish. "I always told you it wasn't worth anything," he said roughly. "She'd love you any better if you could spurt Greek?" Will broke into a pleased laugh, his mind dwelling upon the fancy the other had conjured up so skilfully. "Did you ever see such lips in your life?" he inquired. Christopher shook his head. "I haven't noticed them, but Sol's have a way of sticking in my memory."