“Nothing!—why so?”
“That is easy to answer.” Young Van laughed bitterly. “I have no offers.”
“I’m surprised at that.”
“You don’t really mean that, Mr. Carhart?”
“Certainly I do.”
“Well, it’s more than I can say. If a man came along and offered me a good position, I should feel that I ought to decline it.”
“Why?” Carhart was genuinely interested.
“Why?” Young Van rose and stood looking gloomily down at his chief. “That’s a funny question for you to ask. You’ve been watching my work for these months, and you’ve seen me developing new limitations in every possible direction. All together, I’ve discovered about the choicest crop any man ever opened up. When I started out, I thought I might some day become an engineer. But if this job has taught me anything, it has taught me that I’m the emptiest ass that ever tried to lay two rails, end to end, in a reasonably straight line.” The tremulous quality of his voice told Carhart how deeply the boy had taken his duties to heart.
“I’ve been thinking to-day that the best thing I can do will be to rent a few acres somewhere out on Long Island and set up to raise chickens for the New York market: broilers, and maybe squabs—they say there is money in squabs. I’d probably find I couldn’t even do that, but it would be exciting for a while.”