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still keep thinkin' he's an angel。 That's true； too； Al。 Not；〃
with the return of the slight smile； 〃that Rachel ever went so far
as to call me an angel。 No； no。 There's limits where you can't
stretch her common…sense any farther。 Callin' me an angel would be
just past the limit。 Yes； yes； yes。 I guess SO。〃
They spoke of Captain Zelotes and Olive and of their grief and
discouragement when the news of Albert's supposed death reached
them。
〃Do you know；〃 said Labe； 〃I believe Helen Kendall's comin' there
for a week did 'em more good than anything else。 She got away from
her soldier nursin' somehowmust have been able to pull the
strings consider'ble harder'n the average to do itand just came
down to the Snow place and sort of took charge along with Rachel。
Course she didn't live there； her father thought she was visitin'
him； I guess likely； but she was with Cap'n Lote and Olive most of
the time。 Rachel says she never made a fuss； you understand； just
was there and helped and was quiet and soft…spoken and capable and
and comfortin'； that's about the word； I guess。 Rachel always
thought a sight of Helen afore that； but since then she swears by
her。〃
That eveningor； rather； that night； for they did not leave the
sitting room until after twelveMrs。 Snow heard her grandson
walking the floor of his room； and called to ask if he was sick。
〃I'm all right； Grandmother；〃 he called in reply。 〃Just taking a
little exercise before turning in； that's all。 Sorry if I
disturbed you。〃
The exercise was； as a matter of fact； almost entirely mental； the
pacing up and down merely an unconscious physical accompaniment。
Albert Speranza was indulging in introspection。 He was reviewing
and assorting his thoughts and his impulses and trying to determine
just what they were and why they were and whither they were
tending。 It was a mental and spiritual picking to pieces and the
result was humiliating and in its turn resulted in a brand…new
determination。
Ever since his meeting with Helen； a meeting which had been quite
unpremeditated； he had thought of but little except her。 During
his talk with her in the parsonage sitting room he had beenthere
was no use pretending to himself that it was otherwisemore
contented with the world； more optimistic； happier； than he had
been for months； it seemed to him for years。 Even while he was
speaking to her of his uneasiness and dissatisfaction he was dimly
conscious that at that moment he was less uneasy and less
dissatisfied； conscious that the solid ground was beneath his feet
at last； that here was the haven after the storm； here was
He pulled up sharply。 This line of thought was silly； dangerous；
wicked。 What did it mean？ Three days before； only three days； he
had left Madeline Fosdick； the girl whom he had worshiped； adored；
and who had loved him。 Yes； there was no use pretending there；
either； he and Madeline HAD loved each other。 Of course he
realized now that their love had nothing permanently substantial
about it。 It was the romance of youth； a dream which they had
shared together and from which； fortunately for both； they had
awakened in time。 And of course he realized； too； that the
awakening had begun long； long before the actual parting took
place。 But nevertheless only three days had elapsed since that
parting； and now What sort of a man was he？
Was he like his father？ Was it what Captain Zelotes used to call
the 〃Portygee streak〃 which was now cropping out？ The opera singer
had been of the butterfly typein his later years a middle…aged
butterfly whose wings creaked somewhatbut decidedly a flitter
from flower to flower。 As a boy； Albert had been aware； in an
uncertain fashion； of his father's fondness for the sex。 Now；
older； his judgment of his parent was not as lenient； was clearer；
more discerning。 He understood now。 Was his own 〃Portygee
streak；〃 his inherited temperament； responsible for his leaving one
girl on a Tuesday and on Friday finding his thoughts concerned so
deeply with another？
Well； no matter； no matter。 One thing was certainHelen should
never know of that feeling。 He would crush it down； he would use
his common…sense。 He would be a decent man and not a blackguard。
For he had had his chance and had tossed it away。 What would she
think of him now if he came to her after Madeline had thrown him
overthat is what Mrs。 Fosdick would say； would take pains that
every one else should say； that Madeline had thrown him overwhat
would Helen think of him if he came to her with a second…hand love
like that？
And of course she would not think of him as a lover at all。 Why
should she？ In the boy and girl days she had refused to let him
speak of such a thing。 She was his friend； a glorious； a wonderful
friend； but that was all； all she ever dreamed of being。
Well； that was right； that was as it should be。 He should be
thankful for such a friend。 He was； of course。 And he would
concentrate all his energies upon his work； upon his writing。
That was it； that was it。 Good； it was settled！
So he went to bed and； eventually； to sleep。
CHAPTER XIX
While dressing in the cold light of dawn his perturbations of the
previous night appeared in retrospect as rather boyish and
unnecessary。 His sudden and unexpected meeting with Helen and
their talk together had tended to make him over…sentimental； that
was all。 He and she were to be friends； of course； but there was
no real danger of his allowing himself to think of her except as a
friend。 No； indeed。 He opened the bureau drawer in search of a
tie； and there was the package of 〃snapshots〃 just where he had
tossed them that night when he first returned home after muster…
out。 Helen's photograph was the uppermost。 He looked at it
looked at it for several minutes。 Then he closed the drawer again
and hurriedly finished his dressing。 A part； at least； of his
resolve of the night before had been sound common…sense。 His brain
was suffering from lack of exercise。 Work was what he needed； hard
work。
So to work he went without delay。 A place to work in was the first
consideration。 He suggested the garret； but his grandmother and
Rachel held up their hands and lifted their voices in protest。
〃No； INDEED；〃 declared Olive。 〃Zelotes has always talked about
writin' folks and poets starvin' in garrets。 If you went up attic
to work he'd be teasin' me from mornin' to night。 Besides； you'd
freeze up there； if the smell of moth…balls didn't choke you first。
No； you wait； I've got a notion。 There's that old table desk of
Zelotes' in the settin' room。 He don't hardly ever use it
nowadays。 You take it upstairs to your own room and work in there。
You can have the oil…heater to keep you warm。〃
So that was the arrangement made； and in his own room Albert sat
down at the battered old desk； which had been not only his
grandfather's but his great…grandfather's property； to concentrate
upon the first of the series of stories ordered by the New York
magazine。 He had already decided upon the general scheme for the
series。 A boy； ragamuffin son of immigrant parents； rising； after
a wrong start； by sheer grit and natural shrewdness and ability；
step by step to competence and success； winning a place in and the
respect of a community。 There was nothing new in the idea itself。
Some things his soldier chum Mike Kelley had told him concerning an
uncle of hisMike'ssuggested it。 The novelty he hoped might
come from the incidents； the various problems faced by his hero；
the solution of each being a step upward in the latter's career and
in the formation of his character。 He wanted to write； if he
could； the story of the building of one more worth…while American；
for Albert Speranza； like so many others set to thinking by the war
and the war experiences； was realizing strongly that the gabbling
of a formula and the swearing of an oath of naturalization did not
necessarily make an American。 There were too many eager to take
that oath with tongue in cheek and knife in sleeve。 Too many； for
the first time in their lives breathing and speaking as free men；
thanks to the protection of Columbia's arm； yet planning to stab
their protectress in the back。
So Albert's hero was to be an American； an American to whom the
term meant the highest and the best。 If he had hunted a lifetime
for something to please and interest his grandfather he could not
have hit the mark nearer the center。 Cap'n Lote； of course；
pretended a certain measure of indifference； but that was for Olive
and Rachel's benefit。 It would never do for the scoffer to become
a convert openly and at once。 The feminine members of the household
clamored each evening to have the author read aloud his day's
installment。 The captain sniffed。
〃Oh； dear； dear；〃 with a groan； 〃now I've got to hear all that
made…up stuff that happened to a parcel of made…up folks that never
lived and never will。 Waste of time； waste of time。 Where's my
Transcript？〃
But it was noticedand commented upon； you may be sureby his
wife and housekeeper that the Transcript was likely to be； before
the reading had progressed far； either in