He had no gift of lucid exposition. “I ain’t going to be a servant,” he said. “I don’t see what right people have making a servant of me.” “You got to be something,” said Mr. Darling. “Everybody’s got to be something,” said Mrs. Darling. “Then let me be something else,” said young Bealby. “_I_ dessay you’d like to be a gentleman,” said Mr. Darling. “I wouldn’t mind,” said young Bealby. “You got to be what your opportunities give you,” said Mr. Darling. Young Bealby became breathless. “Why shouldn’t I be an engine driver?” he asked. “All oily,” said his mother. “And getting yourself killed in an accident. And got to pay fines. You’d _like_ to be an engine driver.” “Or a soldier.” “Oo!—a Swaddy!” said Mr. Darling decisively. “Or the sea.” “With that weak stummik of yours,” said Mrs. Darling. “Besides which,” said Mr. Darling, “it’s been arranged for you to go up to the ’ouse the very first of next month. And your box and everything ready.” Young Bealby became very red in the face. “I won’t go,” he said very faintly. “You will,” said Mr. Darling, “if I ’ave to take you by the collar and the slack of your breeches to get you there.” § 3 The heart of young Bealby was a coal of fire within his breast as—unassisted—he went across the dewy park up to the great house, whither his box was to follow him. He thought the world a “rotten show.” He also said, apparently to two does and a fawn, “If you think I’m going to stand it, you know, you’re JOLLY-well mistaken.” I do not attempt to justify his prejudice against honourable usefulness in a domestic capacity. He had it. Perhaps there is something in the air of Highbury, where he had spent the past eight years of his life, that leads to democratic ideals. It is one of those new places where estates seem almost forgotten. Perhaps too there was something in the Bealby strain.... I think he would have objected to any employment at all. Hitherto he had been a remarkably free boy with a considerable gusto about his freedom. Why should that end? The little village mixed school had been a soft job for his Cockney wits, and for a year and a half he had been top boy. Why not go on being top boy?