channel. "What a lot of bosh is talked about lovers," his comment
ran. "As if everyone didn't really know how much like drunken men
they are--saying things which in a month they'll have forgotten.
Folks pretend to approve of 'em and all the while they're
laughing at 'em up their sleeves. But how they respect a man
who's got the root they're all grubbing for! It may be the root
of all evil, but it's a fact that everything people want grows
from it. They hate a man for having it, but they'd like to be
him. Their hearts have all got strings dangling from 'em,
especially the women's. A house tied onto the other end ought to
be hefty enough to fetch the best of the lot."

Who could she be, anyway? Was she someone in Fallon? He drove
slowly, thinking over the families in the different houses--four
to each side of the block. The street, even yet, was little more
than a country road. There was no indication of the six miles of
pavement which later were to be Fallon's pride. It had rained
earlier in the week and Martin was obliged to be careful of the
chuck-holes in the sticky, heavy gumbo soon to be the bane of
pioneers venturing forth in what were to be known for a few short
years as "horseless carriages."

Bumping along he recalled to his mind the various girls with whom
he had gone to school. As if the sight of the building, itself,
would sharpen his memory, he turned north and drove past it. Like
its south, east and west counterparts, it was a solid two-story
brick affair. In time it would be demolished to make way for what
would be known as the "Emerson School," in which, to be worthy of
this high title, the huge stoves would be supplanted with
hot-water pipes, oil lamps with soft, indirect lighting, and