The first time Mr. Smith saw Frank Blaisdell, after Miss Maggie's news of the forty-thousand-dollar loss, he tried, somewhat awkwardly, to express his interest and sympathy. But Frank Blaisdell cut him short.  
"That's all right, and I thank you," he cried . "And I know most folks would think losing forty thousand dollars was about as bad as it could be. Jane, now, is all worked up over it; can't sleep nights, and has gone back to turning down the gas and eating sour cream so's to save and help make it up. But me—I call it the best thing that ever happened."
 
"Well, really," laughed Mr. Smith; "I'm sure that's a very way to look at it—if you can."
 
"Well, I can; and I'll tell you why. It's put me back where I belong—behind the counter of a grocery store. I've bought out the old stand. Oh, I had enough left for that, and more! Closed the deal last night. Gorry, but I was glad to feel the old floor under my feet again!"
 
"But I thought you—you were tired of work, and—wanted to enjoy yourself," Mr. Smith.
 
Frank Blaisdell laughed.
 
"Tired of work—wanted to enjoy myself, indeed! Yes, I know I did say something like that. But, let me tell you this, Mr. Smith. Talk about work!—I never worked so hard in my life as I have the last ten months trying to enjoy myself. How these folks can stand 'round the country week in and week out, feeding their stomachs on a French dictionary instead of good United States meat and potatoes and squash, and spending their days traipsing off to see things they ain't a interested in, and their nights trying to get rested so they can go and see some more the next day, I don't understand."
 
Mr. Smith .
 
"I'm afraid these touring agencies wouldn't like to have you write their ads for them, Mr. Blaisdell!"
 
"Well, they hadn't better ask me to," smiled the other grimly. "But that ain't all. Since I come back I've been working even harder trying to enjoy myself here at home—knockin' silly little balls over a ten-acre lot in a game a healthy ten-year-old boy would scorn to play."
 
"But how about your new car? Didn't you enjoy riding in that?"
Mr. Smith.
"Oh, yes, I enjoyed the riding well enough; but I didn't enjoy hunting for , putting on new tires, or into the inside of the critter to find out why she didn't go! And that's what I was doing most of the time. I never did like . It ain't in my line."
 
He paused a moment, then went on a little wistfully:—
 
"I suspect, Mr. Smith, there ain't anything in my line but groceries. It's all I know. It's all I ever have known. If—if I had my life to live over again, I'd do different, maybe. I'd see if I couldn't find out what there was in a picture to make folks stand and stare at it an hour at a time when you could see the whole thing in a minute—and it wa'n't worth lookin' at, anyway, even for a minute. And music, too. Now, I like a good what is a tune; but them caterwaulings and that that chap Gray plays on that of his—gorry, Mr. Smith, I'd rather hear the old barn door at home any day. But if I was younger I'd try to learn to like 'em. I would! Look at , now. She can set by the hour in front of that phonygraph of hers, and not know it!"
 
"Yes, I know," smiled Mr. Smith.
 
"And there's books, too," resumed the other, still wistfully. "I'd read books—if I could stay awake long enough to do it—and I'd find out what there was in 'em to make a good sensible man like Jim Blaisdell daft over 'em—and Maggie Duff, too. Why, that little woman used to go hungry sometimes, when she was a girl, so she could buy a book she wanted. I know she did. Why, I'd 'a' given anything this last year if I could 'a' got interested—really interested, readin'. I could 'a' killed an awful lot of time that way. But I couldn't do it. I bought a lot of 'em, too, an' tried it; but I expect I didn't begin young enough. I tell ye, Mr. Smith, I've about come to the conclusion that there ain't a thing in the world so hard to kill as time. I've tried it, and I know. Why, I got so I couldn't even kill it EATIN'—though I 'most killed myself TRYIN' to! An' let me tell ye another thing. A full stomach ain't in it with bein' hungry an' knowing a good dinner's coming. Why, there was whole weeks at a time back there that I didn't know the meaning of the word 'hungry.' You'd oughter seen the I give one o' them waiter-chaps one day when he comes up with his paper and his pencil and asks me what I wanted. 'Want?' says I. 'There ain't but one thing on this earth I want, and you can't give it to me. I want to WANT something. I'm tired of bein' so blamed satisfied all the time!'"
 
"And what did—Alphonso say to that?" chuckled Mr. Smith appreciatively.
 
"Alphonso? Oh, the waiter-fellow, you mean? Oh, he just stared a minute, then his usual 'Yes, sir, very good, sir,' and shoved that confounded printed card of his a little nearer to my nose. But, there! I guess you've heard enough of this, Mr. Smith. It's only that I was trying to tell you why I'm actually glad we lost that money. It's give me back my man's job again."
 
"Good! All right, then. I won't waste any more sympathy on you," laughed Mr. Smith.
 
"Well, you needn't. And there's another thing. I hope it'll give me back a little of my old faith in my fellow-man."
 
"What do you mean by that?"
 
"Just this. I won't suspect every man, woman, and child that says a civil word to me now of having designs on my pocketbook. Why, Mr. Smith, you wouldn't believe it, if I told you, the things that's been done and said to get a little money out of me. Of course, the open gold-brick schemes I knew enough to , 'most of 'em (unless you count in that darn Benson mining stock), and I the blackmailers all right, most generally. But I WAS flabbergasted when a WOMAN tackled the job and began to make love to me—actually make love to me!—one day when Jane's back was turned. Gorry! DO I look such a fool as that, Mr. Smith? Well, anyhow, there won't be any more of that kind, nor anybody after my money now, I guess," he finished with a wag of his head as he turned away.
 
To Miss Maggie that evening Mr. Smith said, after recounting the earlier portion of the conversation: "So you see you were right, after all. I shall have to own it up. Mr. Frank Blaisdell had plenty to retire upon, but nothing to retire to. But I'm glad—if he's happy now."
 
"And he isn't the only one that that forty-thousand-dollar loss has done a good turn to," nodded Miss Maggie. "Mellicent has just been here. You know she's home from school. It's the Easter vacation, anyway, but she isn't going back. It's too expensive."
 
Miss Maggie with studied casualness, but there was an added color in her cheeks—Miss Maggi............