r. And my father,
opening up by degrees, showed an unmistakable relish for Joe.

They had long talks in the study at night, where I could hear them
arguing about the decline of our shipping, the growth of our trusts and
railroads, graft and high finance and strikes, the swift piling up of
our troubles at home--and about the great chance we were losing abroad,
the blind weak part we were playing in this eager ocean world where
every nation that was alive was rushing in to get a place. As their
voices rose loud and excited, even my young sister Sue, who was just out
of high school now and doing some groping about of her own, would go
into the study to listen at times. But I kept out. For already I was
tired again of all these harbor problems, I wanted to get at life
through Art! And I felt besides that if I entered into long talks with
my father, sooner or later he would be sure to bring up the dreaded
question of my going into his business. And this I was firmly resolved
not to do. For my dislike of all his work, his deepening worries, his
dogged absorption in his tiresome hobby of ships, was even sharper than
before.

"That dad of yours," Joe told me, "is a mighty interesting old boy. He
has had a big life with a big idea."

"Has he?" said I. "Then he's lost it."

"He hasn't! That's just the trouble. He thinks he's a comer when he's a
goer--he can't see his idea is out of date. It's a pity," he added
sadly. "When a man can spend his days and nights hating the trusts and
the railroads as he does, it's a pity he's so darned old in his views of
what ought to be done about it. Your father believes that if only we'd
get a strong navy and a large mercantile marine----"

"Oh, cut it, J. K.," I said pettishly. "I tell you I don't care what he
believes! The next thing you'll be telling me is that I ought to take a
job in his warehouse!"

"You might do worse," said Joe.

"What?" I demanded indignantly.

"That's just what I said. If you'd go on a paper and learn to write like
a regular man I'd be tickled to death. But if all you want to be in life
is a young Guy de Maupassant and turn out little gems for the girls,
then I say you'd be a lot better off if you went into your father's
warehouse and began telling Wall Street to get off the roof!"

"Thank you," I said stiffly.

From that talk Joe and I began drifting apart. I never brought him home
again, I saw less of him at college. And at the end of the college year
he