But of all the interviews which followed Albert's decision the most surprising and that which he was the least likely to forget was his interview with Laban Keeler. It took place on the evening of the third day following the announcement of his intention to enlist. All that day, and indeed for several days, Albert had noted in the little bookkeeper certain symptoms, familiar symptoms they were and from experience the young man knew what they portended. Laban was very nervous, his fingers twitched as he wrote, occasionally he rose from his chair and walked up and down the room, he ran his hand through his scanty hair, he was inclined to be irritable--that is, irritable for him. Albert had noted the symptoms and was sorry. Captain Zelotes noted them and frowned and pulled his beard. “Al,” he said to his grandson, “if you can put off goin' up to enlist for a little spell, a few days, I wish you would. Labe's gettin' ready to go on one of his vacations.” Albert nodded. “I'm afraid he is,” he said. “Oh, it's as sartin as two and two makes four. I've lived with him too many years not to know the signs. And I did hope,” he added, regretfully, “that maybe he was tryin' to break off. It's been a good long spell, an extry long spell, since he had his last spree. Ah hum! it's a pity a good man should have that weak spot in him, ain't it? But if you could hang around a few more days, while the vacation's goin' on, I'd appreciate it, Al. I kind of hate to be left here alone with nobody but Issachar to lean on. Issy's a good deal like a post in some ways, especially in the makeup of his head, but he's too ricketty to lean on for any length of time.” That evening Albert went to the post-office for the mail. On his way back as he passed the dark corner by the now closed and shuttered moving-picture theater he was hailed in a whisper. “Al,” said a voice, “Al.” Albert turned and peered into the deep shadow of the theater doorway. In the summer this doorway was a blaze of light and gaiety; now it was cold and bleak and black enough. From the shadow a small figure emerged on tiptoe. “Al,” whispered Mr. Keeler. “That's you, ain't it? Yes, yes--yes, yes, yes--I thought 'twas, I thought so.” Albert was surprised. For one thing it was most unusual to see the little bookkeeper abroad after nine-thirty. His usual evening procedure, when not on a vacation, was to call upon Rachel Ellis at the Snow place for an hour or so and then to return to his room over Simond's shoe store, which room he had occupied ever since the building was erected.