Paul began to laugh, almost hysterically. Even in the midst of his serious anxiety, the idea of himself demurely kneading dough was too much for his gravity.
“But I’d poison everyone in town in twenty-four hours! Bake bread! Rolls! Tarts! Sir, I could far more easily learn how to trim hats!”
“I don’t doubt it. Any silly schoolgirl can learn that. I freely admit that the art of a great baker is not readily acquired. I admit that in some measure it requires an inborn gift, and a gift that is by no means a common one. Great cooks are far rarer, believe me, than great orators, or great artists, although the world in general does not rank them as it should. There was a time when a fine pastry or a sauce composed with genius called forth the applause of kings, and when eminent bakers were honored by the noblest in the land. But to-day, through the ignorance and indifference of the world, the profession is fallen in value, because, forsooth, it is fancied that it caters to the less noble tastes of mankind. My dear boy, it is for you, in whose veins flows the blood of the King of Bakers, to maintain the fame and dignity of your profession. Do not imagine that you lack the gift. It has lain idle, but a little practice will soon prove that it is in your possession.”
Paul, feeling that he had come up against a wall of adamant, got up and began to pace the floor. Here he was with exactly twenty-five cents in his pocket, without even a suit of clothes that deserved the name, without a friend within three thousand miles, nor the faintest idea of where he could go, if he rashly broke away from the family roof-tree.
“It seems that you had other ideas,” remarked Mr. Lambert in a politely interested tone, which said, “I don’t mind listening to any of your fantastic notions.” Paul hesitated. He most certainly had had other ideas, and, what was more, he did not have the slightest intention of relinquishing them. The question was, could he lay them simply before his uncle? One glance at Mr. Lambert’s smooth, practical face was sufficient to make him feel that anything of the sort was not to be considered; certainly not at this time, in any case. Mr. Lambert had fixed his mind on one idea, and tenacity was his most striking characteristic. It was his boast that he never changed his mind, and the truth of this statement was recognized by everyone who had any dealings with him.
“I should like to think over all that you have said, Uncle Peter,” Paul at length said warily. “All this has been very unexpected, and I don’t know just what to say.”
“You mean that you are still doubtful as to whether you will accept or reject the position, to which Providence has called you, and which it is plainly your Duty to accept?” inquired Mr. Lambert, raising his eyebrows. He was surprised and annoyed by his nephew’s resistance, but knowing the boy’s circumstances he had no fear that Paul would decide against his own wishes.
Paul was quick to perceive this underlying cocksureness, and his whole soul rose in rebellion.
“I don’t see that either Providence or Duty has anything to do with the case,” he retorted, instantly firing up.
Mr. Lambert shrugged his shoulders.