Mrs. Cavers and Libby Anne were still living on the rented farm. After Bill's death the neighbours, with true Western generosity, had agreed among themselves to harvest the crop for her. The season had been so favourable that her share of the crop would be a considerable amount. It was a typical autumn day in middle September. The golden and purple flowers of the fall bespangled the roadside--wild sunflowers, brown-centred gaillardia, wild sage, and goldenrod. The bright blue of the cloudless sky set off the rich tints of autumn. The stubble fields still bore the golden-yellow tinge of the harvest, and although the maple leaves were fast disappearing before the lusty winds of autumn, the poplars, yellow and rust-coloured, still flickered gaily, the wild rosehaws and frost-touched milkweed still gave a dash of colour to the shrubbery on the river-bank. There had been an early frost that fall, which had caught the late wheat, and now the grain which was brought into the elevators had to be closely graded. The temptation to "plug" the wheat was strong, and so much of it was being done that the elevator men were suspicious of every one. Young Tom Steadman was weighing wheat in the Farmers' Elevator while the busy time was on, and although there was no outward hostility between him and Bud Perkins, still his was too small a nature to forget the thrashing that Bud had given him at the school two years ago, and, according to Tom's code of ethics, it would be a very fine way to get even if he could catch Bud selling "plugged" wheat. The first load that Bud brought in Tom asked him if he had plugged it. Bud replied quite hotly that he had not. "I suppose," said Tom, "you stopped all that since you joined the Church." Bud's face flushed, but he controlled his temper and answered: "Yes, that's what stopped me, and I'm not ashamed to say so." The manager of the elevator, who was present, looked at him in surprise. "Were you ever caught?" he asked. "No," said Bud; "I was not." "Well, then, you're a fool to ever admit that you did it," he said severely. "I can't help that," Bud said. "I am not going to lie about it." "Well, it makes people suspicious of you to know you ever did it, that's all," Mr. Johnston said. "You are welcome to watch me. I am not asking you to take my word for it," Bud replied. "You're a queer lad," said the elevator man. Bud's wheat was closely examined, and found to be of uniform quality. The wheat went up to the dollar mark and Thomas Perkins decided to rush his in to the elevator at once. He stayed at home himself and filled the bags while Bud did the marketing. All went well for a week. Contrary to his own words about being suspicious of Bud, the elevator "boss" was, in his own mind, confident of the boy's honesty.