“Oh, lots of things.”

“I have seen no evidence of it. Why your mother sent you to that place, instead of to some good business college, I cannot imagine.”

“Well, you see, father had been there——”

Sam broke off. Mr. Pynsent, he was aware, had not been fond of the late Anthony Shotter—considering, and possibly correctly, that his dead sister had, in marrying that amiable but erratic person, been guilty of the crowning folly of a frivolous and fluffy-headed life.

“A strong recommendation,” said Mr. Pynsent dryly.

Sam had nothing to say to this.

“You are very like your father in a great many ways,” said Mr. Pynsent.

Sam let this one go by too. They were coming off the bat a bit fast this morning, but there was nothing to be done about it.

“And yet I am fond of you, Sam,” resumed Mr. Pynsent after a brief pause.

This was more the stuff.

“And I am fond of you, uncle,” said Sam in a hearty voice. “When I think of all you have done for me——”

“But,” went on Mr. Pynsent, “I feel that I shall{15} like you even better three thousand miles away from the offices of the Pynsent Export and Import Company. We are parting, Sam—and immediately.”

{15}

“I’m sorry.”

“I, on the other hand,” said Mr. Pynsent, “am glad.”

There was a silence. Sam, feeling that the interview, having reached this point, might be considered over, got up.

“Wait a moment,” said Mr. Pynsent. “I want to tell you what plans I have made for your future.”

Sam was agreeably surprised. He had not supposed that his future would be of interest to Mr. Pynsent.

“Have you made plans?”

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