, and so came the crucial point.

"Sam, if you had your choice, what would you be?"

"Dunno."

"But think. I want to know. A greengrocer like Mr. Gruner? Ho, ho!" he
shouted out wholesome laughter.

Sam grinned. He was less ready to laugh. Life had taken toll of that
birthright already.

"I hate vegetables. Beastly, dirty things," he said prosaically. "No,
I wouldn't be a _green_-grocer."

"Well what? An engineer? A doctor, lawyer, parson?"

"Why not a king now?" scoffed Sam.

"Not enough situations vacant. I mean it, really. What would you be if
you were as free to choose as I am?"

"If I were you, you mean."

"No, not that. If you could choose for yourself as I have."

Sam rowed on stolidly. "Dunno that it's much use bothering," he said
indifferently. "I'm doing all right, though it's not what I'd
choose."

It had seemed an easy, insignificant task to break the news five
minutes ago, but either Christopher had taken the wrong approach or it
was a stiffer job than he had fancied. He became uneasily conscious
his own part in it could not be overlooked, that he was doing
something that evilly-disposed persons might even call magnanimous or
philanthropic. His face grew red at the thought.

"Sam," he said as naturally as he could, "it happens you can choose,
you see. Choose anything you like. Caesar's given me a free hand. We
are both to start life just as we like. What shall it be? I've told
you my choice."

The narrow form in front never slackened its stroke, but pulled on
mechanically, and at last spoke a little gruffly.

"Say. You're kidding me, you know."

"I'm not. Dead earnest."

Again the boat shot on, but Christopher stopped rowing. Sam looked
back over his shoulder.

"You're lazy. Why don't you pull?"

Christopher obeyed mechanically. He knew he could afford to be patient
now.

"Easy," said the stroke at last.

There was a smooth reach of water before them. Low meadows with
reddish muddy banks lay on either side, no house or any living soul
was in sight. Sam rubbed his hands on his trousers, looked back at his
friend and away again.

"You mean you'll start me in any trade I like? 'Prentice me?"

"Any trade or profession."

"What do you do it for, anyhow?"

"Caesar suggested it. He said I might if I liked."

"Well, why do you do it?"

"Does it matter?"

"I want to know certain."

Christopher looked embarrassed. "Weren't we kids together? Besides, it
seems to me every chap