fact that Bates was a partial wreck, that the man's nerve and strength
in him were to some extent gone, bred in Trenholme the gallantry of the
strong toward the weak--a gallantry which was kept from rearing into
self-conscious virtue by the superiority of Bates's reasoning powers,
which always gave him a certain amount of real authority. Slowly they
began to be more confidential.

"It's no place for a young man like you to be here," Bates observed with
disfavour.

It was Sunday. The two were sitting in front of the house in the
sunshine, not because the sun was warm, but because it was bright;
dressed, as they were, in many plies of clothes, they did not feel the
cold, in flat, irregular shape the white lake lay beneath their hill. On
the opposite heights the spruce-trees stood up clear and green, as
perfect often in shape as yews that are cut into old-fashioned cones.

"I was told that about the last place I was in, and the place before
too," Trenholme laughed. He did not seem to take his own words much to
heart.

"Well, the station certainly wasn't much of a business," assented Bates;
"and, if it's not rude to ask, where were ye before?"

"Before that--why, I was just going to follow my own trade in a place
where there was a splendid opening for me; but my own brother put a stop
to that. He said it was no fit position for a young man like me. My
brother's a fine fellow," the young man sneered, but not bitterly.

"He ought to be," said Bates, surveying the sample of the family before