Frank’s preoccupied air had not gone unobserved. Callie Shaw had noticed his abstraction. More than once, when she had smiled pleasantly at him as they met one another in the hallways or in the classroom at the high school, he had merely nodded moodily. Callie was too sensible to be hurt by this, but she wondered what was worrying Frank. So one afternoon, when they happened to leave school together, she taxed him with it.

“What’s on your mind, Frank?” she asked gaily. “You’ve been going around looking like a human thundercloud for the last week.”

“Who, me? I didn’t notice,” returned Frank heavily.

“Yes, you!” she replied, mimicking his lifeless tone. “You used to be full of fun. What’s the matter? Can’t I help?” She glanced up at him eagerly.

Frank shook his head.

“No, you can’t help, Callie. It’s about Slim.”