“Oh,” said Mr. Louden, briefly.  “You do?”

“Yes.  Don’t you?”

“Who do you think in Canaan would put a case in your hands?”

“Oh, I don’t expect to get anything important at the start.  But after a while—­”

“With your reputation?”

The smile which had faded from Joe’s lips returned to them.  “Oh, I know they thought I was a harum-scarum sort of boy,” he answered lightly, “and that it was a foolish thing to run away for nothing; but you had said I mustn’t come to you for help—­”

“I meant it,” said Mr. Louden.

“But that’s seven years ago, and I suppose the town’s forgotten all about it, and forgotten me, too.  So, you see, I can make a fresh start.  That’s what I came back for.”

“You’ve made up your mind to stay here, then?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe,” said Mr. Louden, with marked uneasiness, “that Mrs. Louden would be willing to let you live with us.”

“No,” said Joe, gently.  “I didn’t expect it.”  He turned to the window and looked out, averting his face, yet scoring himself with the contempt he had learned to feel for those who pity themselves.  His father had not even asked him to sit down.  There was a long silence, disturbed only by Mr. Louden’s breathing, which could be heard, heavy and troubled.

At last Joe turned again, smiling as before.  “Well, I won’t keep you from your work,” he said.  “I suppose you’re pretty busy—­”

“Yes, I am,” responded his father, promptly.  “But I’ll see you again before you go.  I want to give you some advice.”

“I’m not going,” said Joe.  “Not going to leave Canaan, I mean.  Where will I find Eugene?”

“At the Tocsin office; he’s the assistant editor.  Judge Pike bought the Tocsin last year, and he thinks a good deal of Eugene.  Don’t forget I said to come to see me again before you go.”

Joe came over to the older man and held out his hand.  “Shake hands, father,” he said.  Mr. Louden looked at him out of small implacable eyes, the steady hostility of which only his wife or the imperious Martin Pike, his employer, could quell.  He shook his head.

“I don’t see any use in it,” he answered.  “It wouldn’t mean anything.  All my life I’ve been a hard-working man and an abiding man.  Before you got in trouble you never did anything you ought to; you ran with the lowest people in town, and I and all your folks were ashamed of you.  I don’t see that we’ve got a call to be any different now.”  He swung round to his desk emphatically, on the last word, and Joe turned away and went out quietly.

But it was a bright morning to which he emerged from the outer doors of the factory, and he made his way towards Main Street at a lively gait.  As he turned the corner opposite the “National House,” he walked into Mr. Eskew Arp.  The old man drew back angrily.

“Lord ‘a’ mercy!” cried Joe, heartily.  “It’s Mr. Arp!  I almost ran you down!” Then, as Mr. Arp made no response, but stood stock-still in the way, staring at him fiercely, “Don’t you know me, Mr. Arp?” the young man asked.  “I’m Joe Louden.”