e asked.

"I expect to learn some Italian," Raymond replied.

"Wouldn't French be more useful?"

"I know all the French I need."

"Where do you expect to use your Italian?"

"In Italy. I didn't go to college."

Impossible to depict the quality of Raymond's tone in speaking these
five words. There was no color, no emphasis, no seeming presentation of
a case. It was the cool, level statement of a fact; nor did he try to
make the fact too pertinent, too cogent. An hour-long oration would not
have been more effective. He had calmly taken off a lid and had
permitted a look within. His father saw--saw that whatever Raymond, by
plus or by minus, might be, he was no longer a boy.

"I know," said James Prince, slowly. He was looking past us both and was
opening and shutting the covers of the book unconsciously.

A day or two later, Raymond gave me the rest. His father had asked him
how much money he had. Out of his sixty or seventy-five a month Raymond
had set aside several hundreds; "and I said I could make the rest by
corresponding for some newspaper," he continued. This was in the simple
day when travel-letters from Europe were still printed and read in the
newspapers, and even "remunerated" by editors. Incredible, perhaps, in
this day; yet true for that.

His father had asked him how long he intended to be away. Raymond was
non-committal. He might travel for a year, or he might try "living" there
for a while--a long while. A matter of funds and of luck, it seemed. His
father, without pressing him closely, offered to double whatever sum he
had saved up. He appeared neither pleased nor displeased by Raymond's
course. He felt I suppose, that the bank would hardly suffer, and that
Raymond (whom he did not understand) might get some profit. Fathers have
their own opinions of sons, which opinions range, I dare say, all the
way from charitableness to desperation. In the case of my own son, I am
glad to say, a very slight degree of charitableness was all the tax laid
upon me. There were some distressing months of angularity, both in
physique and in manners, at seventeen; then a quick and miraculous
escape into trimness and grace. And my grandson, now at nine, promises
to be, I am glad to state, even more of a success and a pleasure. As for
Raymond, he had developed unevenly: his growth had gone athwart.
Possibly the "world," that vast, vague entity of which his father's
knowledge was restricted almost to one narrow field,