outstretched hand, instantly dragged him away from the doorway into the
road and out of hearing of his audience.

"Did you hear what I was saying?" he asked hoarsely.

"Well, yes,--I think so," returned the stranger, with a quiet smile.

"Ye ain't goin' back on me, Clarence, are ye,--ain't goin' to gimme away
afore them, old pard, are ye?" said Jim, with a sudden change to almost
pathetic pleading.

"No," returned the stranger, smiling. "And certainly not before that
interested young lady, Jim. But stop. Let me look at you."

He held out both hands, took Jim's, spread them apart for a moment with
a boyish gesture, and, looking in his face, said half mischievously,
half sadly, "Yes, it's the same old Jim Hooker,--unchanged."

"But YOU'RE changed,--reg'lar war paint, Big Injin style!" said Hooker,
looking up at him with an awkward mingling of admiration and envy.
"Heard you struck it rich with the old man, and was Mister Brant now!"

"Yes," said Clarence gently, yet with a smile that had not only a tinge
of weariness but even of sadness in it.

Unfortunately, the act, which was quite natural to Clarence's
sensitiveness, and indeed partly sprang from some concern in his old
companion's fortunes, translated itself by a very human process to
Hooker's consciousness as a piece of rank affectation. HE would have
been exalted and exultant in Clarence's place, consequently any other