Unless I'm much mistaken, one will try to get by on his ancestors' reputation, and the other on his father's money, and neither will be classed among the three hundred hitters when the great Umpire calls them out.
You don't have to be ashamed of your ancestors, or my money, and it did me a world of good to overhear you say to young Raincoats that I might not have made a million out of the war, but there wasn't a leather company in the country which wouldn't sell me any amount of stock I cared to order. That's the sort of a reputation I've always tried to deserve. It's the aim of every decent American business man, but just the same it's fine to feel my only kid's as proud of it as I am.
Now I've met several of your schoolmates I'd sooner tie up to than the boys you exhibited. That roommate of yours for instance. He's pretty green yet, and his taste in neckties is awful, although it's improving, but I'll bet that ten years from now you'll be more proud of what he's accomplished, than he will of what you've done, unless you scratch considerable dirt in the meantime. That other boy, the dark-haired one from Virginia, he'll get on too; he's worth while, cultivate him.
When I was a little older than you, I once made a mistake in a friend that had mighty serious results, and I don't want you running the same risks.
It was when I was working in the Epping National Bank, that a pretty slick fellow by the name of J. Peters Wellford blew into town, hired two rooms at the Mansion House, and the best rig Sol Higgins had in his livery stable, and settled down to live the life of a gentleman of leisure.
Now every man in Epping worked, except George Banes the town half wit, and Jim Spencer the town drunk, and a person who labored neither with his hands nor brains was considered not quite respectable.
J. Peters, however, didn't get drunk, and he had a wit that was sharper than a new-honed razor, and, as he wasn't curious, paid his bills, and seemed to mind his business and no one else's, besides having faultless manners and a pocket full of ready money, the younger folks after a short period of probation welcomed him with open arms.
He never made much of a hit with the old people, and as I look back I can see it was their intuition gained by hard experience that warned them that J. Peters was not all he seemed, although at the time I put it down to pure envy.
From the first, J. Peters who was at least fifteen years older, took a great fancy to me.
He was forever hanging round the bank, inviting me to dinner at the Mansion House, driving me about the country and going fishing with me on Saturday afternoons.