respectable calling, if a little dirty," murmured Mr.
Aston. "The greengrocers, I mean not the Lord Mayors."

"Sam's got a head on his shoulders. He's really awfully sharp. He
could be anything he liked," urged Christopher. "Could you help him,
Caesar?"

"You might if you liked."

"Make what I like of him?"

"No. Most emphatically, no. Make what he likes of himself. A crossing
sweeper, if he fancies that. Buy him a crossing and a broom, you
know."

"But really, what he likes; not joking?"

"Sober earnest. I'll see to-morrow, and tell you. Now, will you kindly
find that place you were looking for when we were so inopportunely
interrupted with irrelevant moralisings."

"I won't do it again," said his father deprecatingly. "I apologise."

Aymer gravely bowed his head and the subject was dropped. But when
they were alone that evening, Mr. Aston reverted to it.

"What are you going to do with Sam Sartin?" he asked, "and why are you
doing it?"

"Sam must settle the first question himself," said Aymer, idly drawing
appalling pictures of steamrollers on the fly-leaf of a book, "as to
the second--" he paused in his drawing, put the book down and turned
to his father.

"Christopher's got the makings of a rabid socialist in him. If he's
not given good data to go on he will be a full disciple when he's
twenty-one, all theories and dreams, caught in a mesh of words. I
don't want that. It's natural too, for, after all, Christopher is not
of the People, any more than--than his mother was." He examined his
pencil critically. "She always credited them with the fine aspirations
and pure passions of her own soul, instead of allowing them the very
reasonable and just aspirations and ambitions that they have and
should be able to reach. Sam may be an exception, but I don't think he
is. I'm quite ready to give Christopher a free hand to help him,
provided he knows what he wants himself."

"To provide an object lesson for Christopher?"

"Yes, precisely."

"Is it quite fair on Sam?"

Aymer looked up quickly.

"He benefits anyway."

"Possibly; but you do not care about that."

"Christopher does."

"Ah, yes. Christopher does. That is worth considering. Otherwise----"

"Otherwise?"

"How far are we justified in experimenting with our fellow-creatures,
I wonder?"

CHAPTER XII

It was a day of expectancy--and promise--of blackthorn breaking into
snowy showers, and of meadows richly green, blue sky and white