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〃Not yet； but they will； I suppose。〃
〃I see； I see。 How much； think likely？〃
〃Oh； I don't know。 Ten dollars； perhaps。〃
〃Um…hm 。 。 。 I see。 。 。 。 Well； that's pretty good； considerin'； I
suppose。 。 。 。 We did first…rate on that Hyannis school…house
contract； didn't we。 Nigh's I can figger it we cleared over
fourteen hundred and eighty dollars on that。〃
He invariably followed any reference to the profit from the sale of
verses by the casual mention of a much larger sum derived from the
sale of lumber or hardware。 This was so noticeable that Laban
Keeler was impelled to speak of it。
〃The old man don't want you to forget that you can get more for
hard pine than you can for soft sonnets； sellin' 'em both by the
foot；〃 observed Labe； peering over his spectacles。 〃More money in
shingles than there is in jingles； he cal'lates。 。 。 。 Um。 。 。 。
Yes； yes。 。 。 。 Consider'ble more； consider'ble。〃
Albert smiled； but it astonished him to find that Mr。 Keeler knew
what a sonnet was。 The little bookkeeper occasionally surprised
him by breaking out unexpectedly in that way。
From the indiscriminate praise at home； or the reluctant praise of
his grandfather； he found relief when he discussed his verses with
Helen Kendall。 Her praise was not indiscriminate； in fact
sometimes she did not praise at all； but expressed disapproval。
They had some disagreements； marked disagreements； but it did not
affect their friendship。 Albert was a trifle surprised to find
that it did not。
So as the months passed he ground away at the books of Z。 Snow and
Company during office hours and at the poetry mill between times。
The seeing of his name in print was no longer a novelty and he
poetized not quite as steadily。 Occasionally he attempted prose；
but the two or three short stories of his composition failed to
sell。 Helen； however； urged him to try again and keep trying。 〃I
know you can write a good story and some day you are going to；〃 she
said。
His first real literary success； that which temporarily lifted him
into the outer circle of the limelight of fame； was a poem written
the day following that upon which came the news of the sinking of
the Lusitania。 Captain Zelotes came back from the post…office that
morning； a crumpled newspaper in his hand； and upon his face the
look which mutinous foremast hands had seen there just before the
mutiny ended。 Laban Keeler was the first to notice the look。 〃For
the land sakes； Cap'n； what's gone wrong？〃 he asked。 The captain
flung the paper upon the desk。 〃Read that；〃 he grunted。 Labe
slowly spread open the paper； the big black headlines shrieked the
crime aloud。
〃Good God Almighty！〃 exclaimed the little bookkeeper。 Captain
Zelotes snorted。 〃He didn't have anything to do with it；〃 he
declared。 〃The bunch that pulled that off was handled from the
other end of the line。 And I wish to thunder I was young enough to
help send 'em back there；〃 he added； savagely。
That evening Albert wrote his poem。 The next day he sent it to a
Boston paper。 It was published the following morning； spread
across two columns on the front page； and before the month was over
had been copied widely over the country。 Within the fortnight its
author received his first request； a bona fida request for verse
from a magazine。 Even Captain Lote's praise of the Lusitania poem
was whole…hearted and ungrudging。
That summer was a busy one in South Harniss。 There was the usual
amount of summer gaiety； but in addition there were the gatherings
of the various committees for war relief work。 Helen belonged to
many of these committees。 There were dances and theatrical
performances for the financial benefit of the various causes and
here Albert shone。 But he did not shine alone。 Helen Kendall was
very popular at the social gatherings； popular not only with the
permanent residents but with the summer youth as well。 Albert
noticed this； but he did not notice it so particularly until Issy
Price called his attention to it。
〃Say； Al；〃 observed Issy； one afternoon in late August of that
year； 〃how do YOU like that Raymond young feller？〃
Albert looked up absently from the page of the daybook。
〃Eh？ What？〃 he asked。
〃I say how do YOU like that Eddie Raymond； the Down…at…the…Neck
one？〃
〃Down at the neck？ There's nothing the matter with his neck that I
know of。〃
〃Who said there was？ He LIVES down to the Neck； don't he？ I mean
that young Raymond； son of the New York bank man； the ones that's
had the Cahoon house all summer。 How do you like him？〃
Albert's attention was still divided between the day…book and Mr。
Price。 〃Oh； I guess he's all right；〃 he answered； carelessly。 〃I
don't know him very well。 Don't bother me； Issy； I'm busy。〃
Issachar chuckled。 〃He's busy； too；〃 he observed。 〃He； he； he！
He's busy trottin' after Helen Kendall。 Don't seem to have time
for much else these days。 Noticed that； ain't you； Al？ He； he！〃
Albert had not noticed it。 His attention left the day…book
altogether。 Issachar chuckled again。
〃Noticed it； ain't you； Al？〃 he repeated。 〃If you ain't you're the
only one。 Everybody's cal'latin' you'll be cut out if you ain't
careful。 Folks used to figger you was Helen's steady comp'ny； but
it don't look as much so as it did。 He； he！ That's why I asked
you how you liked the Raymond one。 Eh？ How do you； Al？ Helen；
SHE seems to like him fust…rate。 He； he； he！〃
Albert was conscious of a peculiar feeling； partly of irritation at
Issachar； partly something else。 Mr。 Price crowed delightedly。
〃Hi！〃 he chortled。 〃Why； Al； your face is gettin' all redded up。
Haw； haw！ Blushin'； ain't you； Al？ Haw； haw； haw！ Blushin'； by
crimustee！〃
Albert laid down his pen。 He had learned by experience that； in
Issy's case； the maxim of the best defensive being a strong
offensive was absolutely true。 He looked with concern about the
office。
〃There's a window open somewhere； isn't there； Is？〃 he inquired。
〃There's a dreadful draught anyhow。〃
〃Eh？ Draught？ I don't feel no draught。 Course the window's open；
it's generally open in summer time； ain't it。 Haw； haw！〃
〃There it is again！ Where Oh； _I_ see！ It's your mouth that's
open； Issy。 That explains the draught； of course。 Yes； yes； of
course。〃
〃Eh？ My mouth！ Never you mind my mouth。 What you've got to think
about is that Eddie Raymond。 Yes sir…ee！ Haw； haw！〃
〃Issy； what makes you make that noise？〃
〃What noise？〃
〃That awful cawing。 If you're trying to make me believe you're a
crow you're wasting your time。〃
〃Say； look here； Al Speranzy； be you crazy？〃
〃No…o； I'M not。 But in your casewell； I'll leave it to any fair…
minded person〃
And so on until Mr。 Price stamped disgustedly out of the office。
It was easy enough； and required nothing brilliant in the way of
strategy or repartee； to turn Issachar's attack into retreat。 But
all the rest of that afternoon Albert was conscious of that
peculiar feeling of uneasiness。 After supper that night he did not
go down town at once but sat in his room thinking deeply。 The
subjects of his thoughts were Edwin Raymond； the young chap from
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