erated him when he howled his feeble quota in their interest and which were prepared to devour him if he took off his uncomfortable wolf's clothing; a mob which indulged in meaningless squabbles outside the walls of his stronghold. He had long since become a hermit in order to survive and now he found himself more isolated than ever. Bon! The world should see what a thorough-going hermit he could be.
Walter Dreer, who was cashier in the Bridgetown bank, had begun by hailing him as a priceless acquisition to the life of the community. But when Paul had failed to find satisfaction in the bucolic merriment of evening parties at which Walter was the scintillating jeune premier, Walter's attitude became resentful. Through the inevitable roundabout channels Paul learned that his old chum spoke of him as "a smart-Alec." This criticism was weakened by the fact, obvious to the village at large, that Walter aped him.
John Ashmill, his former oppressor, was more satisfactory. John's very grossness gave him a tolerance which approximated breadth of vision. He had gone into the lumber business with his father, and in hours of leisure his sole ambition was to be entertained. From far and near he collected cronies whom Hale's Turning considered "fast." He had disgraced his people by eloping with Bessie Day, a girl whom Paul still regarded as dirty and bold. The pair lived in a house on the hill above the Baptist Church, played cards, drank and danced. They had even been known to engage in these pastimes on Sundays, and Miss Todd, over her garden fence, had seen Bessie smoking! When Paul, according to clamorous invitations, accompanied John and Bessie to Halifax on a riotous week-end excursion, he was voted, by members of the Women's Christian Temperance Union, "Not so nice as he seemed."
Wilfrid Fraser, a good young man who had become
