"What kind of a job," asked the father quietly.
"In an office." And Keith sputtered out the details.
When the whole story was told, the father stood looking at him enigmatically for a long while.
"Perhaps it is just as well," he said at last. "It certainly will make things easier for me. But bear in mind what I now tell you, boy: you will live to regret the chance you are throwing away--a chance for which I would have given one of my hands when I was of your age."
"Did you want me to go on," Keith asked uncertainly.
"I did--I always hoped that you should pass your university examinations and wear the white cap."
"And what did you want me to become?"
"A civil engineer--that's the only real profession today."
The idea was too novel to be grasped quickly by the boy. His own thoughts had never strayed in that direction, and his conception of an engineer's duties and position was extremely vague.
"An engineer," he repeated. "But then I should not have studied Latin."