As the new boy listened to the conversation, he had enjoyed it all, though it was difficult for him to understand how it was possible for his friends to throw aside apparently all feeling of responsibility. Someone must be working, and working hard too, to provide the means by which all the advantages which were given them were to be had. And yet no one seemed to be thinking of that nor of any responsibility that came with such privileges. Although Dan was happy in his quiet way, he was still at a loss to understand his friends. Their home training had been different from his, their lives had been easy, plenty of money had been given them, even their very clothing had an air which Dan now realized made his own appear in a light of which he had never once thought. As far as Rodman was concerned, he had always felt that he appeared as well as any of the country boys—that is, if he ever thought of such things at all.
At the Tait School, however, all was changed, and though Dan did not quite understand as yet in just what the difference consisted, he still was conscious that in his life some of the elements that appealed strongly to him were lacking. Perhaps he was equally unaware that he himself was possessed of certain very desirable qualities that were lacking in the well-dressed, self-possessed boys who made up the new world into which he had entered.
As the days passed, Dan found himself compelled to work hard in order to maintain a place in the classes to which he had been assigned. He had been out of school several years, and the work which he had tried to do alone and even that in which Moulton had directed him had left him poorly prepared. But there was in the country boy a spirit of determination that counted for much. Mr. Hale, one of the teachers, had apparently taken a special interest in the new boy. “Remember, Richards,” he said to Dan one day, “ninety per cent of success means work. Indeed, that is about all there is of it anyway. Genius is said to be a capacity for work, and not much else. The great man is the man who can do more than others. If you work you’ll win. Of course it must be the right kind of work and it must be in the right way, for there is a deal of difference between mere activity and true work.”
“I don’t think I quite understand,” Dan had said.
Mr. Hale laughed as he continued, “Did you see that house that was being moved down the street yesterday?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you notice that the men had a horse to wind the rope around the windlass and so pull the building?”
“Yes, sir; I saw that.”
“Well, yesterday afternoon I stopped to watch them a few minutes. The poor old horse was freed from his task a minute, the rope was being adjusted, I fancy, or there were some boards to be moved or something to be done. But the poor old horse didn’t know. Without a word being spoken to him he started in on his task again. Around and around he traveled, keeping it up until the men took pity on him and stopped him. He—I mean the horse, of course—didn’t know the difference, although he wasn’t accomplishing a thing. The rope was not adjusted and in spite of his steady trot around the windlass he wasn’t moving the house an inch. He was ‘active’ enough, but he wasn’t doing any real work. Do you see what I mean?”