"I am going to ask him," Donald said.
"Do not ask him now. He might not want to talk his business over here. Wait until you get back East."
"I hate to think of going back home, Sandy," the boy declared, regret in his tones.
"All good things must come to an end, lad. You will go back, finish your schooling, go to college as your father wishes, and then, a gentleman grown, you will be choosing some work."
Sandy studied Donald keenly.
"Yes, I suppose that is just what I shall do. I am thinking some of studying law, Sandy."
The Scotchman's face fell, but Donald did not notice it.
"I've always thought I should like to stand up in court and make a great plea—a speech that would sweep people off their feet," went on Donald. "Or," he added reflectively, "I may be a judge."
Sandy scratched his head.
"There's a good bit step between studying law and being a judge," said he.