ilke, the incorrigible, began life all over again. He
hadn't been satisfied with his own life, and far less with Wentworth's,
but he planned a third career for himself in this promising grandson. He
didn't merely take an interest in the child, or just make him his hobby.
He centered his whole mind upon him. He made it his business in life to
develop that infant--in order that through him he might at last reach
the front row.

And this time he won. It looked doubtful at first; Charles was nervous
and frail, and hence backward. His mind was too excitable and his health
too poor to send him to school. That's a handicap in England; school
associations and training count much. However, the boy easily mastered
his studies at home, and he often met eminent men who came around to the
house, and he made some experiments in literature--in fact, wrote a
novel. And when sixteen, he met a beautiful girl, Emilia Strong, whom he
worshiped. And he traveled, and talked with his grandfather; and so he
grew up.

At eighteen his health grew much better: in fact, grew robust. He
immediately entered Cambridge, and there he began a new life. This was a
splendid thing for him, in a number of ways. For instance, one of the
first things he did was to go in for athletics. He had a flat, narrow
chest, sloping shoulders; but the rowing men trained him; and he worked
until he became a good oar, and could row on a crew.

He had lived almost entirely with grown-ups before going to college, and
was much more mature and well-informed than the fellows he met there.
But some parts of his nature had never had a chance to come out; his
sense of fun, for example. He now began having good times with boys of
his own age. He worked so hard at his rowing that he finally stroked the
first crew. And "nobody could make more noise at a boating supper," one
of his friends said. He even got into a scrape and was deprived of a
scholarship he had won.

All these new ways of Charles--except the scrape, possibly--must have
seemed right and normal, and even, perhaps, reassuring to his father,
Sir Wentworth. But Sir Wentworth became alarmed lest they shouldn't
please Mr. Dilke. He feared Mr. Dilke was going to be disappointed all
over again, by a student who found university life too full of pleasure.
The unfortunate baronet, therefore, wrote Charles for heaven's sake to
be studious.

He need not have worried. Charles became a wonder at studies. And it
wasn't just bri