xcept that in
one business a man makes more than in another. And I can't see either
that it does a person a bit of good to have money. I'm having more fun
right now than father or you ever had--more fun than anybody I know.
Mother," and his face was solemn as if with a great discovery, "I've
figured it out that it's silly to do as most people--just live to work.
I'm going to work just enough to live comfortably. Not one scrap more,
either. You can't think how I hate the very thought of it."

Rose sighed. Couldn't she, indeed! She understood only too well how
deeply this rebellion was rooted. The hours when he had been dragged up
from the far shores of a dreamful slumber to shiver forth in the
chill darkness to milk and chore, still rankled. Those tangy frosty
afternoons, when he had been forced to clean barns and plow while the
other boys went rabbit and possum hunting or nutting, were afternoons
whose loss he still mourned. Nothing had yet atoned for the evenings
when he had been torn from his reading and sent sternly to bed
because he must get up so early. Always work had stolen from him these
treasures--dreams, recreation and knowledge. He had been obliged to
fight the farm and his father for even a modicum of them--the things
that made life worth living. And the irony of it--that eventually it
would be this farm and Martin's driving methods which, if he became
reconciled to his father, would make it possible for him to drink all
the fullness of leisure.

It was too tragic that the very thing which should have stood for
opportunity to the boy had been used to embitter him and drive him into
danger. But he must not lose his birthright. An almost passionate desire
welled in Rose's heart to hold on to it for him. True, she too had been
a slave to the farm. Yet not so much a slave to it, she distinguished,
as to Martin's absorption in its development. And of late years there
had been for her, running through all the humdrum days, a satisfaction
in perfecting it. In her mind now floated clearly the ideal toward which
her husband was striving. She had not guessed how much it had become her
own until she felt herself being drawn relentlessly by Bill's quiet,
but implacable determination to have her leave it all behind. If only he
would try again, she felt sure all would be so different! His father
had learned a lesson, of that she was positive, and though he would
not promise it, would not be so hard on the boy. And with t