told Paul, 'a most remarkaple man. I am a
boet, and a creat boet; but I haf no lankwage. My Vrench is Cherman, and
my Cherman is Vrench, ant my Enklish is Alsatian. My normal demperadure
is fever heat. I am a toctor; I am a zoldier. I haf peen a creat agdor
in garagder bards--Alsatian garagder bards--in Vrance and in Chermany.
I can write a blay, ant I can stage id, ant I can baint the scenery for
id. I am Cheorge Dargo, ant vere I haf not been it is nod vorth vile to
co; and vot I do not know apout a theatre it is not vorth vile to learn.
Sdob vith me, and I will deach you your business.'

The company played a week within five miles of Castle Barfield, and
Paul snatched an hour for home. There the brown velveteen and the patent
leathers and the watch made a great impression, and the eight sovereigns
Paul was able to jingle in his pockets and display to wondering eyes.

'There's danger in the life, lad,' said Armstrong wistfully. 'I know
it, for I saw a heap of it in my youth. Keep a clean heart, Paul. High
thinking goes with chaste and sober living. There's nothing blurs faith
like our own misdeeds.'

Paul was thankful for the dusk which hid his flaming cheeks at this
moment. His mother had taken away the candle, and the old man had chosen
the instant's solitude for this one serious word.

'I'm not denying,' said Armstrong, 'that it is a good worldly position
for a lad of your years, but what's it going to lead to, Paul, lad?
What's the direction, I'm asking?

'I'm going to be a dramatist,' said Paul.

'A play-actor!' cried the mother, who was back again.

'A play-writer,' Paul corrected. 'I've got the best tutor in the world.'

'Do you mean to tell me,' his mother asked, 'that you think o' making
that a trade for a lifetime?'

'Why not? asked Pau.

'Why not, indeed!' she cried, with an angry click of her
knitting-needle. 'Writing a parcel o' rubbidge for fools to speak, and
other fools to laugh at.'

'It was Shakespeare's trade, Mary,' said Armstrong.

'It's a pretty far cry from our Paul to Shakespeare, I reckon,' said the
mother with sudden dryness.

'I suppose it is,' said Paul, laughing; 'but there are degrees in every
calling. Wait a bit I don't mean that you shall be ashamed of me.'

Paul had been away from home for half a year, and absence had altered
many things. The High Street of the town had grown mean and sordid to
the eye. Shops which had once been palatial had lost all the glamour
which