Wallace looked grave. "I don't like the idea, Don," he said. "I wish you could be persuaded to give it up. If you should be unsuccessful, of which there are ten chances to one, it would involve the loss of some of the best years of your life."
"One must take a risk in anything one tries," interrupted Don, impatiently.
"True," replied Wallace, "but in this more than in many others."
"'Nothing venture, nothing have,'" muttered Don.
"I thought you were to go to college in the fall," remarked Wallace.
"That has been father's plan for me, but as I have no fancy for a profession, I think a college course would be almost time thrown away—money too. Ru has proposed to make a druggist of me, but that isn't to my fancy either."
"I wish you would go in with Ru, if you are determined not to take a collegiate education. I can see that he, poor fellow, is sadly overworked, and to have a brother in with him—one whom he could trust—would doubtless prove a great relief."
"Ru hasn't seemed well of late," assented Don in a reflective tone, "but I was laying it all to—to grief. Wallace, the house isn't what it used to be. I've thought I couldn't stand it. I've been a selfish dog, but I'll try to forget self and think of other people. Good-evening. I promised mother I'd be back soon," he added, as he rose and took his departure.
His heart was filled with grief and disappointment; he crossed the street slowly, with head bent and eyes on the ground, battling earnestly with himself, striving to put aside his own inclinations for the sake of others.
He found the family still gathered in the sitting-room, Dr. Landreth and Mildred with them.