"I suppose it must be nice to make your own living," she said, and, after thinking a moment, "awfully nice!"
"You bet. I got tired of seeing Dad come home for meals all tuckered out, to find me playing ball on the lawn or reading literature on the verandah."
He cast his eyes toward Main Street. The village bell announced the evening meal, and a familiar figure walked toward the home of George Nelson, village merchant.
"There he comes, Frankie," said Evan, unconsciously sighing; "that step will always remind me of summer evenings and studious noon hours."
The bankclerk felt a sudden desire to work hard and repay his father for the consideration shown him at school. The village merchant would have been willing to help his boy through any college in the country, and the boy knew it. He felt proud of his start in business, of the paltry two dollars in his pocket, as he watched his father approach.
Mr. Nelson waved his hat when he saw Evan on the verandah; and when he came up,—
"Hey," he laughed, "it's a wonder you wouldn't call into a fellow's store and say good-day."
Evan shook hands heartily, smiling into the blue eyes that had more than once cowed him with a glance, when he was performing some ridiculous feat of boyhood.
"I understand," said the father, before Evan could make an excuse; "it's up to Ma. I'm surprised she leaves you alone out here with a young lady."
Perceiving the effect of his remark on Frankie, George Nelson laughed merrily and pinched the girl's cheek.