Kilmeny of the Orchard | Page 2

the head of his class; the latter had come to see the
graduation, nearly bursting with pride in Eric's success.
Between these two was an old and tried and enduring friendship,
although David was ten years older than Eric, as the mere tale of years
goes, and a hundred years older in knowledge of the struggles and
difficulties of life which age a man far more quickly and effectually
than the passing of time.
Physically the two men bore no resemblance to one another, although
they were second cousins. Eric Marshall, tall, broad-shouldered, sinewy,
walking with a free, easy stride, which was somehow suggestive of
reserve strength and power, was one of those men regarding whom
less-favoured mortals are tempted seriously to wonder why all the gifts
of fortune should be showered on one individual. He was not only
clever and good to look upon, but he possessed that indefinable charm
of personality which is quite independent of physical beauty or mental
ability. He had steady, grayish-blue eyes, dark chestnut hair with a glint
of gold in its waves when the sunlight struck it, and a chin that gave the
world assurance of a chin. He was a rich man's son, with a clean young
manhood behind him and splendid prospects before him. He was
considered a practical sort of fellow, utterly guiltless of romantic
dreams and visions of any sort.
"I am afraid Eric Marshall will never do one quixotic thing," said a
Queenslea professor, who had a habit of uttering rather mysterious
epigrams, "but if he ever does it will supply the one thing lacking in
him."
David Baker was a short, stocky fellow with an ugly, irregular,
charming face; his eyes were brown and keen and secretive; his mouth
had a comical twist which became sarcastic, or teasing, or winning, as
he willed. His voice was generally as soft and musical as a woman's;
but some few who had seen David Baker righteously angry and heard
the tones which then issued from his lips were in no hurry to have the
experience repeated.
He was a doctor--a specialist in troubles of the throat and voice--and he
was beginning to have a national reputation. He was on the staff of the

Queenslea Medical College and it was whispered that before long he
would be called to fill an important vacancy at McGill.
He had won his way to success through difficulties and drawbacks
which would have daunted most men. In the year Eric was born David
Baker was an errand boy in the big department store of Marshall &
Company. Thirteen years later he graduated with high honors from
Queenslea Medical College. Mr. Marshall had given him all the help
which David's sturdy pride could be induced to accept, and now he
insisted on sending the young man abroad for a post-graduate course in
London and Germany. David Baker had eventually repaid every cent
Mr. Marshall had expended on him; but he never ceased to cherish a
passionate gratitude to the kind and generous man; and he loved that
man's son with a love surpassing that of brothers.
He had followed Eric's college course with keen, watchful interest. It
was his wish that Eric should take up the study of law or medicine now
that he was through Arts; and he was greatly disappointed that Eric
should have finally made up his mind to go into business with his
father.
"It's a clean waste of your talents," he grumbled, as they walked home
from the college. "You'd win fame and distinction in law-- that glib
tongue of yours was meant for a lawyer and it is sheer flying in the face
of Providence to devote it to commercial uses--a flat crossing of the
purposes of destiny. Where is your ambition, man?"
"In the right place," answered Eric, with his ready laugh. "It is not your
kind, perhaps, but there is room and need for all kinds in this lusty
young country of ours. Yes, I am going into the business. In the first
place, it has been father's cherished desire ever since I was born, and it
would hurt him pretty badly if I backed out now. He wished me to take
an Arts course because he believed that every man should have as
liberal an education as he can afford to get, but now that I have had it
he wants me in the firm."
"He wouldn't oppose you if he thought you really wanted to go in for
something else."
"Not he. But I don't really want to--that's the point, David, man. You
hate a business life so much yourself that you can't get it into your
blessed noddle that another man might like it. There are many lawyers
in the world--too many, perhaps--but there are never