usands of
miles from home and friends. The whole planet was their home. Only a few
of them--not always the shining lights--would stay at home, with a post
on the State railways, to sit in an office and watch their salaries
mount by increments of L12 every fifth year.

"That's a devil of a fellow, that brother of yours that's here," said
Klaus Brock to Peer one day, as they were walking into town together
with their books under their arms.

"Now, look here, Klaus, once for all, be good enough to stop calling
him my brother. And another thing--you're never to say a word to any one
about my father having been anything but a farmer. My name's Holm, and
I'm called so after my father's farm. Just remember that, will you?"

"Oh, all right. Don't excite yourself."

"Do you suppose I'd give that coxcomb the triumph of thinking I want to
make up to him?"

"No, no, of course not." Klaus shrugged his shoulders and walked on,
whistling.

"Or that I want to make trouble for that fine family of his? No, I may
find a way to take it out of him some day, but it won't be that way."

"Well, but, damn it, man! you can surely stand hearing what people say
about him." And Klaus went on to tell his story. Ferdinand Holm, it
seemed, was the despair of his family. He had thrown up his studies
at the Military Academy, because he thought soldiers and soldiering
ridiculous. Then he had made a short experiment with theology, but found
that worse still; and finally, having discovered that engineering was
at any rate an honest trade, he had come to anchor at the Technical
College. "What do you say to that?" asked Klaus.

"I don't see anything so remarkable about it."

"Wait a bit, the cream of the story's to come. A few weeks ago he
thrashed a policeman in the street--said he'd insulted a child, or
something. There was a fearful scandal--arrest, the police-court, fine,
and so forth. And last winter what must he do but get engaged, formally
and publicly engaged, to one of his mother's maids. And when his mother
sent the girl off behind his back, he raised the standard of revolt
and left home altogether. And now he does nothing but breathe fire and
slaughter against the upper classes and all their works. What do you say
to that?"

"My good man, what the deuce has all this got to do with me?"

"Well, I think it's confoundedly plucky of him, anyhow," said Klaus.
"And for my part I shall get to know him if I can. He's read an awful
lot, they