When they met, his father did not seem to notice his despondency, and he asked him nothing about the Pasmers, of course. That would not have been the American way. Nothing had been said between the father and son as to the special advantages of Campobello for the decision of the question pending when they saw each other last; but the son knew that the father guessed why he chose that island for the purpose; and now the elder knew that if the younger had anything to tell him he would tell it, and if he had not he would keep it. It was tacitly understood that there was no objection on the father's part to Miss Pasmer; in fact, there had been a glimmer of humorous intelligence in his eye when the son said he thought he should run down to Bar Harbour, and perhaps to Campobello, but he had said nothing to betray his consciousness. They met in the reading-room at Parker's, and Dan said, “Hello, father,” and his father answered, “Well, Dan;” and they shyly touched the hands dropped at their sides as they pressed together in the crowd. The father gave his boy a keen glance, and then took the lead into the dining-room, where he chose a corner table, and they disposed of their hats on the window-seat. “All well at home?” asked the young fellow, as he took up the bill of fare to order the dinner. His father hated that, and always made him do it. “Yes, yes; as usual, I believe. Minnie is off for a week at the mountains; Eunice is at home.” “Oh! How would you like some green goose, with apple-sauce, sweet-potatoes, and succotash?” “It seems to me that was pretty good, the last time. All right, if you like it.” “I don't know that I care for anything much. I'm a little off my feed. No soup,” he said, looking up at the waiter bending over him; and then he gave the order. “I think you may bring me half a dozen Blue Points, if they're good,” he called after him. “Didn't Bar Harbour agree with you--or Campobello?” asked Mr. Mavering, taking the opening offered him. “No, not very well,” said Dan; and he said no more about it, leaving his father to make his own inferences as to the kind or degree of the disagreement. “Well, have you made up your mind?” asked the father, resting his elbows on either side of his plate, and putting his hands together softly, while he looked across them with a cheery kindness at his boy. “Yes, I have,” said Dan slowly. “Well?” “I don't believe I care to go into the law.” “Sure?” “Yes.” “Well, that's all right, then. I wished you to choose freely, and I suppose you've done so.” “Oh Yes.” “I think you've chosen wisely, and I'm very glad. It's a weight off my mind. I think you'll be happier in the business than you would in the law; I think you'll enjoy it. You needn't look forward to a great deal of Ponkwasset Falls, unless you like.” “I shouldn't mind going there,” said Dan listlessly. “It won't be necessary--at first. In fact, it won't be desirable. I want you to look up the business at this end a little.”