Dudley still hesitated. He continued to study Marley out of his little eyes. Presently he inquired, as if by way of getting a basis to start on:
“You been to college, ain’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” Marley answered promptly; “I graduated in June.”
“How long was you there?”
“Why,” Marley replied in some surprise, “the full four years.”
“Four years,” Dudley repeated. “How old?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Well, that’s that much time wasted. If a young man’s going to get along these times, and make anything of himself, he has to start early, learn business ways and habits. He’s got to begin at the bottom, and feel his way up.” The banker was speaking now with a reckless waste of words that was surprising. “The main thing at first is to work; it ain’t the money. Now, when I come to Macochee, forty-seven years ago, I hadn’t nothing. But I went to work, I was up early, and I went to bed early; I worked hard all day, I ’tended to business, and I saved my money. That’s it, young man, that’s the only way—up early, work hard, and save your money.” Dudley leaned back in his chair to let Marley contemplate him.
“But what did you work at? At first, I mean.”
“Why,” said Dudley, as if in surprise, “at anything I could get. I wan’t proud; I wan’t ’fraid o’ work.”