"Grandfather," he began, "first of all I want to tell you I am sorry for--for some of the things I said this afternoon."He had rehearsed this opening speech over and over again, but in spite of the rehearsals it was dreadfully hard to make.If his grandfather had helped him even a little it might have been easier, but the captain merely stood there, expressionless, saying nothing, waiting for him to continue.
Albert swallowed, clenched his fists, and took a new start.
"Of course," he began, "I am sorry for the mistakes I made in my bookkeeping, but that I have told you before.Now--now I want to say I am sorry for being so--well, so pig-headed about the rest of it.I realize that you have been mighty kind to me and that I owe you about everything that I've got in this world."He paused again.It had seemed to him that Captain Zelotes was about to speak.However, he did not, so the young man stumbled on.
"And--and I realize, too," he said, "that you have, I guess, been trying to give me a real start in business, the start you think Iought to have."
The captain nodded slowly."That was my idea in startin' you," he said.
"Yes--and fact that I haven't done more with the chance is because I'm made that way, I guess.But I do want to--yes, and I MEAN to try to succeed at writing poetry or stories or plays or something.
I like that and I mean to give it a trial.And so--and so, you see, I've been thinking our talk over and I've concluded that perhaps you may be right, maybe I'm not old enough to know what Ireally am fitted for, and yet perhaps _I_ may be partly right, too.
I--I've been thinking that perhaps some sort of--of--""Of what?"
"Well, of half-way arrangement--some sort of--of compromise, you know, might be arranged.I might agree to stay in the office and do my very best with bookkeeping and business for--well, say, three years or so.During that time I should be trying to write of course, but I would only do that sort of writing evenings or on Saturdays and holidays.It shouldn't interfere with your work nor be done in the time you pay me for.And at the end of the three or four years--"He paused again.This time the pause was longer than ever.
Captain Lote broke the silence.His big right hand had wandered upward and was tugging at his beard.
"Well?...And then?" he asked.
"Why, then--if--if-- Well, then we could see.If business seemed to be where I was most likely to succeed we'd call it settled and Iwould stay with Z.Snow and Co.If poetry-making or--or--literature seemed more likely to be the job I was fitted for, that would be the job I'd take.You--you see, don't you, Grandfather?"The captain's beard-pulling continued.He was no longer looking his grandson straight in the eye.His gaze was fixed upon the braided mat at his feet and he answered without looking up.
"Ye-es," he drawled, "I cal'late I see.Well, was that all you had to say?""No-o, not quite.I--I wanted to say that which ever way it turned out, I--I hoped we--you and I, you know--would agree to be--to be good-natured about it and--and friends just the same.I--I--Well, there! That's all, I guess.I haven't put it very well, I'm afraid, but--but what do you think about it, Grandfather?"And now Captain Zelotes did look up.The old twinkle was in his eye.His first remark was a question and that question was rather surprising.
"Al," he asked, "Al, who's been talkin' to you?"The blood rushed to his grandson's face."Talking to me?" he stammered."Why--why, what do you mean?""I mean just that.You didn't think out this scheme all by yourself.Somebody's been talkin' to you and puttin' you up to it.
Haven't they?"
"Why--why, Grandfather, I--"
"Haven't they?"
