“He said things. And he meant 'em. He showed me, in a perfectly well-bred, cleancut, and most convincing way just what a miserable, selfish, low-down, worthless young hound I am.”
“He—dared!—”
“You bet he dared. And then some. And I hadn't an argument to come back with. I don't know just where he got all his information from, but it was straight.”
He got up, strode to the window, and came back to the bed. Both hands thrust deep in his pockets, he announced his life plans, thus:
“I'm eighteen years old. And I look twenty-three, and act twenty-five—when I'm with twenty-five-year-olds. I've been as much help and comfort to you as a pet alligator. You've always said that I was to go to college, and I've sort of trained myself to believe I was. Well, I'm not. I want to get into business, with a capital B. And I want to jump in now. This minute. I've started out to be a first-class slob, with you keeping me in pocket money, and clothes, and the Lord knows what all. Why, I—”
“Jock McChesney,” said that young man's bewildered mother, “just what did T. A. Buck, Junior, say to you anyway?”
“Plenty. Enough to make me see things. I used to think that I wanted to get into one of the professions. Professions! You talk about the romance of a civil engineer's life! Why, to be a successful business man these days you've got to be a buccaneer, and a diplomat, and a detective, and a clairvoyant, and an expert mathematician, and a wizard. Business—just plain everyday business—is the gamiest, chanciest, most thrilling line there is to-day, and I'm for it. Let the other guy hang out his shingle and wait for 'em. I'm going out and get mine.”
“Any particular line, or just planning to corner the business market generally?” came a cool, not too amused voice from the bed.
“Advertising,” replied Jock crisply. “Magazine advertising, to start with. I met a fellow up in the woods—named O'Rourke. He was a star football man at Yale. He's bucking the advertising line now for the Mastodon Magazine. He's crazy about it, and says it's the greatest game ever. I want to get into it now—not four years from now.”
He stopped abruptly. Emma McChesney regarded him, eyes glowing. Then she gave a happy little laugh, reached for her kimono at the foot of the bed, and prepared to kick off the bedclothes.