"Work!" repeated his mother—and human voice could hardly express amazement greater than did hers. "Work! Jack—you're not in earnest?"
He held upon her a clear-eyed, humorous, but resolute face.
"Don't I look in earnest?"
He did; and his mother could only dazedly repeat, "Work! You go to work!"
"Oh, not at once. No, thank you! I want to ask you to give me a little proper education first that will equip me to do something. You've spent—how much have you spent on my education, mother? Tens and tens of thousands, I know. Pretty big investment, on the whole. Now, how large returns do you suppose I can draw on that investment?"
"I was not thinking about dividends; I was thinking about fitting you for your station," returned his mother stiffly.
"Well, as for me, I've been thinking of late about how much I could get out of that investment. I've wanted to test myself and find what I was worth—as a worker." He leaned a little closer. "I say, mother," he said confidentially, "you remember that little explanation I just gave you of my absence."
"About your trip in that high-powered automobile?"
"That was just a high-powered fib. Just a bit of diplomatic romance—for Olivetta's consumption."
"Then where have you been?" demanded Mrs. De Peyster.