't
give it to me."

Albert's eyes and mouth opened.

"_I_ won't give YOU a chance?" he repeated.

"Sartin. DO you give me one? I ask you to keep these books of mine.
You could keep 'em A Number One. You're smart enough to do it. But you
won't. You let 'em go to thunder and waste your time makin' up fool
poetry and such stuff."

"But I like writing, and I don't like keeping books."

"Keepin' books is a part of l'arnin' the business, and business is the
way you're goin' to get your livin' by and by."

"No, it isn't. I am going to be a writer."

"Now DON'T say that silly thing again! I don't want to hear it."

"I shall say it because it is true."

"Look here, boy: When I tell you or anybody else in this office to do
or not to do a thing, I expect 'em to obey orders. And I tell you not
to talk any more of that foolishness about bein' a writer. D'you
understand?"

"Yes, of course I understand."

"All right, then, that much is settled. . . . Here! Where are you
goin'?"

Albert had turned and was on his way out of the office. He stopped and
answered over his shoulder, "I'm going home," he said.

"Goin' HOME? Why, you came from home not more than an hour and a half
ago! What are you goin' there again now for?"

"To pack up my things."

"To pack up your things! To pack up--Humph! So you really mean it!
You're really goin' to quit me like this? And your grandma, too!"

The young man felt a sudden pang of compunction, a twinge of conscience.

"Grandfather," he said, "I'm sorry. I--"

But the change in his attitude and tone came too late. Captain Lote's
temper was boiling now, contradiction was its worst provocative.

"Goin' to quit!" he sneered. "Goin' to quit because you don't like to
work. All right, quit then! Go ahead! I've done all I can to make a man
of you. Go to the devil in your own way."

"Grandfather, I--"

"Go ahead! _I_ can't stop you. It's in your breed, I cal'late."

That was sufficient. Albert strode out of the private office, head
erect. Captain Zelotes rose and slammed the door after his departing
grandson.

At ten that evening Albert was in his room, sitting in a chair by the
window, gloomily looking out. The packing, most of it, had been done. He
had not, as he told his grandfather he intended doing, left the office
immediately and come straight home to pack. As he emerged from the inner
office after the stormy interview with the captain he found Laban Keeler
hard at work upon the