r three fixed ideas reared themselves like
crags from a whirlpool. He was to live in South Hamiss always--always;
he was to keep books--Heavens, how he hated mathematics, detail work of
any kind!--for drunken old Keeler; he was to "heave lumber" with
Issy Price. He--Oh, it was dreadful! It was horrible. He couldn't! He
wouldn't! He--

Captain Zelotes had been watching him, his heavy brows drawing closer
together as the boy delayed answering.

"Well?" he asked, for another minute. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes."

"Understood, did you?"

"Yes--sir."

"Well?"

Albert was clutching at straws. "I--I don't know how to keep books," he
faltered.

"I didn't suppose you did. Don't imagine they teach anything as
practical as bookkeepin' up at that school of yours. But you can larn,
can't you?"

"I--I guess so."

"I guess so, too. Good Lord, I HOPE so! Humph! You don't seem to be
jumpin' for joy over the prospect. There's a half dozen smart young
fellers here in South Harniss that would, I tell you that."

Albert devoutly wished they had jumped--and landed--before his arrival.
His grandfather's tone grew more brusque.

"Don't you want to work?" he demanded.

"Why, yes, I--I suppose I do. I--I hadn't thought much about it."

"Humph! Then I think it's time you begun. Hadn't you had ANY notion of
what you wanted to do when you got out of that school of yours?"

"I was going to college."

"Humph! . . . Yes, I presume likely. Well, after you got out of college,
what was you plannin' to do then?"

"I wasn't sure. I thought I might do something with my music. I can
play a little. I can't sing--that is, not well enough. If I could,"
wistfully, "I should have liked to be in opera, as father was, of
course."

Captain Zelotes' only comment was a sniff or snort, or combination of
both. Albert went on.

"I had thought of writing--writing books and poems, you know. I've
written quite a good deal for the school magazine. And I think I should
like to be an actor, perhaps. I--"

"Good God!" His grandfather's fist came down upon the desk before him.
Slowly he shook his head.

"A--a poetry writer and an actor!" he repeated. "Whew! . . . Well,
there! Perhaps maybe we hadn't better talk any more just now. You can
have the rest of the day to run around town and sort of get acquainted,
if you want to. Then to-morrow mornin' you and I'll come over here
together and we'll begin to break you in. I shouldn't wonder," he adde