Early the next morning I went to Conkwright's office, to tell him that for a time I preferred to study in the country. The old man was walking up and down the room, with his hands behind him.
"Did you find that woman?" he asked.
"Yes, and I let no one see me."
"Good. You gave her the twenty dollars, and—is that all you gave her?"
"Why, that was all you told me to give her."
"Yes, I know, but didn't you give her some of your own money? Speak out now. No shilly-shallying with me."
"Well, she was so wretched that I gave her five dollars of my own money."
"You did, eh? The money you borrowed from me, you mean?"
"No, money that old Perdue thinks I earned. He insisted upon my taking twenty-five dollars."
"It's all right, my boy. Yes, it's all right, but you'll have to be more careful. It is noble to give, but it is not wise to look for an opportunity. It is better to give to the young than to the old, for the good we do the youth grows with him into a hallowed memory—stimulates him to help others—while the memory of the aged is fitful. Whenever you see a boy trying to amount to something, help him, for that is a direct good, done to mankind. Now to business. Have you read Blackstone?"