“And you know your own mind on the point?” demanded Aymer, watching him closely.
Sam coughed nervously. “Yes, I always knew what I wanted to be. I told him,” with a backward jerk of his head towards Christopher.
This was better than Aymer had expected. A boy with an ambition and a mind of his own was worth assisting.
“Well, what is it. Will you tell me too?”
Sam looked at him out of the corner of his shrewd eyes. “It’s you as is really doing it, sir?”
“What is it?”
“It’s like this,” began Sam, hesitating; “it costs money,—my top ambition; but it’s a paying thing and if anyone would be kind enough to start me on it I’d work off the money in time. I know I could.”
“I’m afraid Christopher hasn’t quite explained,” said Aymer quietly; “it’s not a question of investing 154 money on your industry. I don’t expect him to pay back the cost of starting him in life. You are to start on precisely the same ground.”
Sam got red. “He—he belongs to you—it’s different,” he began.
“What is your ambition?”