"Learn everything you can, when you are going anywhere," said Mr. Ironwood impressively. "They teach riding—a little—at West Point. And mathematics—some."
"Charlemagne can ride," said his uncle proudly.
"On his head?"
"Why no!" said Mr. Thorn. "Will that be required?"
"I've seen 'em on their heads, in that riding-hall," said the Congressman with an easy change of position.
"They teach the classics, of course?"
"He'll hear something about Achilles, like as not," said Mr. Ironwood. "Hector, too. Not so much of either as he will of Charlemagne."
Again the suggestive gleam of the eye acted upon the boy as both spur and check.
"And you have no general advice to give him, Mr. Ironwood, as to what he had best do to prepare himself?"
"Prepare himself?" Mr. Ironwood brought his chair down on all-fours with considerable force. "If that boy wants to get ready for West Point, let him do every blessed thing he don't want to do and not one that he does, between now and next June. Good-morning: I'll attend to it."