It had not come to the point of marriage talk, for Will and Homer were getting only a matter of fifteen dollars weekly wage, and even in those days fifteen dollars a week was not considered a competence. But Jasper never paid his bookkeepers more. A salesman, now, was another matter; beside those of a bookkeeper, his wages were munificent. Enough, that is to say, for marrying. In the fall of the year, when they were twenty-four and Annie Cool was twenty, Steve Randall was killed in a train wreck. Steve was a salesman in the southern territory, and Old Jasper was accustomed to fill vacancies in his selling force from the men who worked upon his books. Both Will and Homer were in line for the job. For three days, till after Steve’s funeral, everyone ignored this fact; then a certain atmosphere of expectancy began to develop in the office. Old Jasper was in bed at home with a shaking cold, but on the fourth day word came that next morning would see him at the office. Everyone knew his choice would be either Homer or Will. On their way home together after work that day these two met Charlie Hopkins, the old man’s son; and Charlie stopped, smiling like a bearer of good news. “I’ve just come from father,” he told them, and he added: “Homer, you’ve got to congratulate Will this time.” He shook Will by the hand, and Homer said: “You’re going to get it, Will. Good for you. I sure am glad!” Will looked at the other, and there was a faint mist in his eyes. “I know you are, Homer,” he said. “I’d have been just as glad for you.” Nevertheless, both knew that this moment must always mark the parting of their ways. Thus far they had gone shoulder to shoulder; hereafter one would lead. Also, both thought of Annie Cool. IV That evening after supper Homer Dean went over to see Annie. He did not telephone to ask if he might come, for Annie was always glad to see him, or to see Will, whether she knew they were coming or not. Homer got there early, so early that the Cools were still at supper, and he went into the dining room and sat by the door, refusing Mrs. Cool’s hospitable urgings that he eat a second supper with them. He did surrender to a piece of pumpkin pie, but it failed to raise his spirits. He was not yet able to face with composure the fact that Will had beaten him. Will was his friend; there was no malice in Homer. Nevertheless, he was disappointed, and discouraged, and sick at heart. This was not apparent to Mr. Cool, nor to Annie’s mother, nor to her younger sister and brother. They all liked Homer, and they talked to him, all at once, but Annie said very little. She watched him, with a curiously wistful questioning in her eyes, but she did not at that time put her question into words.