suaded to ignore for the moment our ban on
professional talk? There is something--"

Smithy, secretly, was only too anxious to talk at great length. But he
pretended to give the request serious consideration.

"If it is really important," he said. "Yes, by all means. Go right
ahead."

"Smithy," Possy plunged on, "I am nonplussed. I am really, terribly
disturbed. I've never felt like this before."

Smithy waited patiently while Possy poured himself a large brandy and
soda, hastily gulped it down, and made a face as he regretted the
action.

"How much do you know about our methods of working in the School of
Environment?" the professor asked, taking a new tack.

"Nothing, of course," replied Smithy. The statement was not precisely
true, but Smithy was not yet ready to confess that he had spies in his
friend's school.

"Well, then," said Possy, knowing full well that Smithy had been getting
reports on his college for many years, and feeling secretly glad that
he, in turn, had been spying.

"Well, then," he repeated, "you should be aware that we know _absolutely
nothing_ about the children we enroll. Most of them are infants. We do
not know who their parents were, or where they were born. Except for the
obvious clues which their bodies furnish, we do not even know their
national or racial origins.

"We bring them up with absolutely equal treatment--the finest of
everything. At the age of five we divide them arbitrarily into classes
and begin training them for occupations. Some we educate as scholars,
some laborers, some professional men. In me, dear friend, you see one of
the triumphs of our methods. I myself was a foundling--raised and
educated in the School of Environment. Whatever I may be, I owe to the
School."

He paused to give Smithy a chance to digest the statement.

"Of course," Possy continued, "we take into consideration such factors
as physical build and muscular development. We don't train undersized
boys to be freight handlers. But in general the division is arbitrary.
And you'd be amazed how they respond to it. To keep a check on things,
we interview our students twice a year to see how much they have
learned.

"We always ask them what they want to be when they grow up. That enables
us to determine whether or not the training is really taking hold.
Occasionally, it is true, we find a case where the schooling seems to
run counter to natural aptitudes--"

Smithy could not resist interrupting.