At her solicitation Lyman Cass gave Champ a warm berth as night watchman.  Small boys played a good many tricks on Champ when he fell asleep at the mill.

II

She had vicarious happiness in the return of Major Raymond Wutherspoon.  He was well, but still weak from having been gassed; he had been discharged and he came home as the first of the war veterans.  It was rumored that he surprised Vida by coming unannounced, that Vida fainted when she saw him, and for a night and day would not share him with the town.  When Carol saw them Vida was hazy about everything except Raymie, and never went so far from him that she could not slip her hand under his.  Without understanding why Carol was troubled by this intensity.  And Raymie—­surely this was not Raymie, but a sterner brother of his, this man with the tight blouse, the shoulder emblems, the trim legs in boots.  His face seemed different, his lips more tight.  He was not Raymie; he was Major Wutherspoon; and Kennicott and Carol were grateful when he divulged that Paris wasn’t half as pretty as Minneapolis, that all of the American soldiers had been distinguished by their morality when on leave.  Kennicott was respectful as he inquired whether the Germans had good aeroplanes, and what a salient was, and a cootie, and Going West.

In a week Major Wutherspoon was made full manager of the Bon Ton.  Harry Haydock was going to devote himself to the half-dozen branch stores which he was establishing at crossroads hamlets.  Harry would be the town’s rich man in the coming generation, and Major Wutherspoon would rise with him, and Vida was jubilant, though she was regretful at having to give up most of her Red Cross work.  Ray still needed nursing, she explained.

When Carol saw him with his uniform off, in a pepper-and salt suit and a new gray felt hat, she was disappointed.  He was not Major Wutherspoon; he was Raymie.

For a month small boys followed him down the street, and everybody called him Major, but that was presently shortened to Maje, and the small boys did not look up from their marbles as he went by.

III

The town was booming, as a result of the war price of wheat.

The wheat money did not remain in the pockets of the farmers; the towns existed to take care of all that.  Iowa farmers were selling their land at four hundred dollars an acre and coming into Minnesota.  But whoever bought or sold or mortgaged, the townsmen invited themselves to the feast—­millers, real-estate men, lawyers, merchants, and Dr. Will Kennicott.  They bought land at a hundred and fifty, sold it next day at a hundred and seventy, and bought again.  In three months Kennicott made seven thousand dollars, which was rather more than four times as much as society paid him for healing the sick.