“You’d better keep at school for awhile, my son. You can’t invest your time to better advantage than in obtaining an education.”
“Do you think so? It seems to me I’m just wasting time. I might be working the way Dan is and making my own way. I’m sure I could do something.”
“What do you think you could do?”
“Oh, I don’t know. If it wasn’t so far from you and Mother I’d like to spend the winters trapping with Mr. Amesbury. Of course, though, I can’t do that. Couldn’t I have a job in your office, or get a berth on one of the ships?”
“You might. You could start in at five or six dollars a week. That’s the usual thing. In a few years you’d probably be advanced to twenty or twenty-five dollars, and if you were very attentive to business, even more, say fifteen hundred or two thousand a year—and that’s a pretty high estimate, for the supply of untrained men is larger than the demand. You’d better keep at school, my son. The college-bred man has a much better chance of success in life than the man who has never been to college. What your future is to be, however, depends upon your own efforts and yourself.”
They walked in silence for a while before Paul spoke.
“Of course you’re right, Father. If you wish I’ll keep at school and go through college. But I’ve been ashamed of myself a good many times. I’ve been so selfish. I never thought of anybody but myself and my own pleasure before I went away. Being with Dan and Mr. Amesbury, and working, myself, has made me want to be more like them and do something worth while. Life would be pretty tiresome without anything to do but just loaf around.”
Densmore placed his hand on Paul’s shoulder.
“I’m glad to hear you say that, Paul. That’s the spirit that makes a real man. I’m afraid we coddled and indulged you until you were becoming spoiled.”
“I failed in my examinations at school, too,” continued Paul, “but I won’t fail again. I’ll study now.”