“No, Jean, you must take the position and prove to me and to yourself that you can make good.”
That night he wrote to his aged mother in Russia that there were wonderful opportunities for young men in America.
When he had gone I hunted to find Little Jean. I found him out on the lawn with his chum, Boozer. He did not see me as I approached, but as I looked at him the thought came to me that he had suddenly grown old, and there was the anxious look upon his face—the same that I had seen when he had talked to me the first time.
“Boozer,” I heard him say, “it’s all right; I am a coward, I’m beaten and I know it, but I’m glad Big Jean got the job—honestly, Boozer, I am—you see it isn’t all my fault—he’s so damned good looking.”
Boozer put his face close to that of Little Jean and held out his paw to the discouraged boy. You see when you live your life at the Self Masters you sense the inner thought of broken men. Boozer—who knows no other life—understands the heart of the discouraged. I did not interrupt the two friends, but turned back to the house.
“What can you ever do to help poor Little Jean?” a visitor asked me. “There seems to be no position in the world for him. What can you do for him?”
“I don’t see much chance,” I replied, distrusting for the moment that Divine Guidance that never fails.
It was only two days after Big Jean had left us that a kindly old lady called at the Colony. She wanted a boy who would take good care of her horses, and drive her and her husband back and forth from her home to the railway station. “I want a boy who loves animals,” she said.