d Sheridan, and struck the desk a blow with his
clenched fist. "A son of mine asks me that! You go out and ask the
poorest day-laborer you can find! Ask him that question--"

"I did once," Bibbs interrupted; "when I was in the machine-shop. I--"

"Wha'd he say?"

"He said, 'Oh, hell!'" answered Bibbs, mildly.

"Yes, I reckon he would!" Sheridan swung away from the desk. "I reckon
he certainly would! And I got plenty sympathy with him right now,
myself!"

"It's the same answer, then?" Bibbs's voice was serious, almost
tremulous.

"Damnation!" Sheridan roared. "Did you ever hear the word Prosperity,
you ninny? Did you ever hear the word Ambition? Did you ever hear the
word PROGRESS?"

He flung himself into a chair after the outburst, his big chest surging,
his throat tumultuous with gutteral incoherences. "Now then," he said,
huskily, when the anguish had somewhat abated, "what do you want to do?"

"Sir?"

"What do you WANT to do, I said."

Taken by surprise, Bibbs stammered. "What--what do--I--what--"

"If I'd let you do exactly what you had the whim for, what would you
do?"

Bibbs looked startled; then timidity overwhelmed him--a profound
shyness. He bent his head and fixed his lowered eyes upon the toe of his
shoe, which he moved to and fro upon the rug, like a culprit called to
the desk in school.

"What would you do? Loaf?"

"No, sir." Bibbs's voice was almost inaudible, and what little sound it
made was unquestionably a guilty sound. "I suppose I'd--I'd--"

"Well?"

"I suppose I'd try to--to write."

"Write what?"

"Nothing important--just poems and essays, perhaps."

"That all?"

"Yes, sir."

"I see," said his father, breathing quickly with the restraint he was
putting upon himself. "That is, you want to write, but you don't want to
write anything of any account."

"You think--"

Sheridan got up again. "I take my hat off to the man that can write
a good ad," he said, emphatically. "The best writin' talent in this
country is right spang in the ad business to-day. You buy a magazine for
good writin'--look on the back of it! Let me tell you I pay money for
that kind o' writin'. Maybe you think it's easy. Just try it! I've tried
it, and I can't do it. I tell you an ad's got to be written so it makes
people do the hardest thing in this world to GET 'em to do: it's got to
make 'em give up their MONEY! You talk about 'poems and essays.' I tell
you when it comes to the actual skill o' putti