his
chair, and helped himself to a cigar, shooting a glance at the embattled
figure of the son.

"You look all primed up--ready to jump in the ring," he said with a
smile, and without waiting for Bojo's embarrassed answer he continued,
caging his fingers and adopting a quick, incisive tone.

"Well, Tom, you have now arrived at man's estate and it is right that I
should discuss with you your future course in life. But before we come
to that I wish to say several things. You've finished your college
course very creditably. You have engaged a good deal in different
sports, it is true; but you have not allowed it to interfere with your
serious work, and I believe on the whole your experience in athletics
has been valuable. It has taught you qualities of self-restraint and
discipline, and it has given you a sound body. Your record in your
studies, while it has not been brilliant, has been creditable. You've
kept out of bad company, chosen the right friends-- I am particularly
impressed with Mr. Granning--and you've not gone in for dissipation.
You've done well and I have no complaint. You've worked hard and you've
played hard. You will take a serious view of life."

This discourse annoyed Bojo. It seemed to fling a barrier of
conventionality between them, driving them further apart.

"Why the deuce doesn't he talk in a natural way?" he thought moodily.
And he felt with a sudden depression the futility of arguing his case.
"We're in for a row. There's no way out."

"Now, Tom, lets talk about the future."

"Here it comes," said Bojo to himself, bracing himself to resist.

"What would you like to do?"

"What would _I_ like?" said Tom, completely off his guard.

"Yes, what are your ideas?"

The turn was so unexpected that he could not for the moment assemble his
thoughts. He rose, making a pretext of seeking an ash-tray, and
returned.

"Why, to tell the truth, sir, I came here expecting that you would
demand that I go into this--into the mills."

"I see, and you don't want to do what your father's done. You want
something else, something better."

The tone in which this was said aroused the obstinacy in the young man,
but he repressed the first answer.

"Well?"

"I don't know, sir, that there's any use of my explaining myself; I
don't know what good it'll do," he said slowly.

"On the contrary, I am not making demands on you. I am here to discuss
with you." (Bojo repressed a smile at this.) "You've thought