"One thing you have omitted which, at the present juncture, may be more useful than any of these things."
"What is that?"
"You were good enough to give me a lathe, and to have me instructed in the mysteries of turning. I am a practical cabinet-maker, if need be."
"But why should this be of use to you?"
"Because, Lord Jocelyn"—Harry ran and leaned over the table with a sweet smile of determination on his face—"because I am going back to my own people for a while, and it may be that the trade of cabinet-making may prove a very backbone of strength to me among them——"
"Harry—you would not—indeed, you could not go back to Bunker?" Lord Jocelyn asked this question with every outward appearance of genuine alarm.
"I certainly would. My very kind guardian and patron, would you stand in my way? I want to see those people from where I am sprung: I want to learn how they differ from you and your kin. I must compare myself with them—I must prove the brotherhood of humanity."
"You will go? Yes—I see you will—it is in your eyes. Go, then, Harry. But return to me soon. The slender fortune of a younger son shall be shared with you so long as I live, and given to you when I die. Do not stay among them. There are, indeed—at least, I suppose so—all sorts and conditions of men. But to me, and to men brought up like you and me, I do not understand how there can be any but one sort and one condition. Come back soon, boy. Believe me—no—do not believe me—prove it yourself: in the social pyramid, the greatest happiness, Harry, lies near the top."