e start you think I ought to
have."

The captain nodded slowly. "That was my idea in startin' you," he said.

"Yes--and fact that I haven't done more with the chance is because I'm
made that way, I guess. But I do want to--yes, and I MEAN to try to
succeed at writing poetry or stories or plays or something. I like
that and I mean to give it a trial. And so--and so, you see, I've been
thinking our talk over and I've concluded that perhaps you may be right,
maybe I'm not old enough to know what I really am fitted for, and yet
perhaps _I_ may be partly right, too. I--I've been thinking that perhaps
some sort of--of--"

"Of what?"

"Well, of half-way arrangement--some sort of--of compromise, you know,
might be arranged. I might agree to stay in the office and do my very
best with bookkeeping and business for--well, say, three years or so.
During that time I should be trying to write of course, but I would
only do that sort of writing evenings or on Saturdays and holidays. It
shouldn't interfere with your work nor be done in the time you pay me
for. And at the end of the three or four years--"

He paused again. This time the pause was longer than ever. Captain
Lote broke the silence. His big right hand had wandered upward and was
tugging at his beard.

"Well? . . . And then?" he asked.

"Why, then--if--if--Well, then we could see. If business seemed to be
where I was most likely to succeed we'd call it settled and I would stay
with Z. Snow and Co. If poetry-making or--or--literature seemed more
likely to be the job I was fitted for, that would be the job I'd take.
You--you see, don't you, Grandfather?"

The captain's beard-pulling continued. He was no longer looking his
grandson straight in the eye. His gaze was fixed upon the braided mat at
his feet and he answered without looking up.

"Ye-es," he drawled, "I cal'late I see. Well, was that all you had to
say?"

"No-o, not quite. I--I wanted to say that which ever way it turned
out, I--I hoped we--you and I, you know--would agree to be--to be
good-natured about it and--and friends just the same. I--I--Well, there!
That's all, I guess. I haven't put it very well, I'm afraid, but--but
what do you think about it, Grandfather?"

And now Captain Zelotes did look up. The old twinkle was in his eye. His
first remark was a question and that question was rather surprising.

"Al," he asked, "Al, who's been talkin' to you?"

The blood rushed to his grandson's face. "Ta