rd to be a fool. If you can't, better learn to
rough-and-tumble it in the world. Education doesn't make successful
men."

"You were not exactly uneducated, Peter," said Aymer drily.

Peter grinned.

"Ah, but I was a genius. I couldn't help it. It would have been the
same had I been born in the gutter. No, I believe in the
rough-and-tumble school to make hard-headed men."

"Well, for all you know, Christopher may be a genius, or be born with
a golden spoon in his mouth."

The other looked up sharply.

"Nevil has a boy of his own, hasn't he?"

"Don't be a fool if you can help it, Peter. Other people have golden
spoons besides the gilded Aston family."

Peter shrugged his shoulders. "It's no business of mine, of course,
but the boy looks sharp. Pity to spoil him. Ha, Ha. I don't spoil
mine."

He got up yawning and sauntered over to the fireplace and so did not
see Aymer's rigid face go white and then red.

"I've got a boy--I think it's a boy--somewhere. Daresay you've
forgotten. You weren't very sociable, poor old chap, when it happened.
About a year after your accident. He's about somewhere or other. Oh, I
back my own theories! I don't suppose he's a genius, so the
rough-and-tumble school for _him_."

"You know the school?"

"I can put my hand on him when I want to--that's not yet. The world
can educate him till I'm ready to step in."

"If he'll have you."

Peter chuckled. "He won't be a fool--even if he's not a genius. Well,
you think of my proposition, I'll go halves."

"How you have disappointed me, Peter. I thought you called from a
disinterested desire to see me after all these years."

"Twelve years, isn't it? Well, you look better than you did then. I
didn't think you would come through--didn't think you meant to. I'm
sorry to miss Cousin Charles. He doesn't approve of me, but he's too
polite to say so, even in a letter. How does he wear?"

"Well, on the whole. He works too hard."

The other spread out his hands.

"Works. And to what end? I'm glad to have seen you again. It's like
old times, if you weren't on that beastly sofa, poor old chap."

"Perhaps you will call again when father is in," said Aymer steadily,
with a mute wonder if a square inch of him was left unbruised.

"To tell the truth, I'm rarely in London. I work from Birmingham and
New York, and calling is an expensive amusement to a busy man."

"Produces nothing?"

"Yes, a good deal of pleasure. It's worth it occasionally