have been discussing his little plan for your future. What
do you think of it, Sam?"

Christopher got up and walked to the window. Minute by minute a sense
of overwhelming disappointment and shame obliterated the once
plausible idea. It was not only an opportunity missed, it was wasted,
thrown away. What glory or distinctions, what ambitions could be
fulfilled in the narrow confines of a grocer's shop--a nightmare
vision of an interminable vista of red canisters, mahogany counters,
biscuit boxes and marble slabs, swam before his eyes. It was no use
denying it. It was a cruel disappointment ... and what would Caesar
think?

Meanwhile Sam, in answer to Aymer's questions, had stumbled out the
statement he thought it a rattling fine thing for him and was very
much obliged.

"And you know your own mind on the point?" demanded Aymer, watching
him closely.

Sam coughed nervously. "Yes, I always knew what I wanted to be. I told
him," with a backward jerk of his head towards Christopher.

This was better than Aymer had expected. A boy with an ambition and a
mind of his own was worth assisting.

"Well, what is it. Will you tell me too?"

Sam looked at him out of the corner of his shrewd eyes. "It's you as
is really doing it, sir?"

"What is it?"

"It's like this," began Sam, hesitating; "it costs money,--my top
ambition; but it's a paying thing and if anyone would be kind enough
to start me on it I'd work off the money in time. I know I could."

"I'm afraid Christopher hasn't quite explained," said Aymer quietly;
"it's not a question of investing money on your industry. I don't
expect him to pay back the cost of starting him in life. You are to
start on precisely the same ground."

Sam got red. "He--he belongs to you--it's different," he began.

"What is your ambition?"

"Grocery business. I've told him. Ever since I was a bit of a chap
that high I've wanted it. I never could get a job in a shop, but if I
was regularly apprenticed now--if that wasn't too much?"

Aymer's glance meandered thoughtfully to the distant Christopher,
still staring out of the window; a shadow of a smile rose to his
lips.

"Yes, that would not be difficult to manage, Sam. How old are you?"

"Over sixteen, sir. There's money in grocery, sir. I could pay it
back. I'm sure I could."

Aymer lay still, thinking. "What sort of schooling have you had? Not
much? Passed the fifth standard young?"

"But it takes a long time for a 'prentice