and feeble. We won't be long here. Remain with us to the close."

"Well, Donald, my man, welcome back," a hearty voice cried.

Upon looking round Donald saw his father, who had been out in the
fields, and just came in as the mother was speaking. The two men
cordially shook hands.

"My, how changed you are," the father said. "I would hardly know you.
From the tone of your letters, you have had an adventurous life in the
West."

"Well," said Donald, "at first the novelty attracted. I was free. There
was no standard of moral attainment constantly thrust in your face, and
that was an enormous relief to me. You know how I often rebelled against
the strictness of life here. But even license fatigues; the new becomes
the old; and where there is no standard there is but feeble achievement.
I became a cowboy because that phase of life offered at a moment when
employment was a necessity. I remained at it because I could make money.
But I never meant this should be permanent. The wild life became dull to
me, and I soon longed for the quiet scenes from which I had been so glad
to escape. I learned to shoot and ride, and picked up a few things which
may be useful to me here. And now, father, let us discuss your affairs."




CHAPTER XI.

"THE PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE."