"I've always understood the house of Rufus Stevens' Sons to be wide-flung, but, somehow, I'm continually being surprised at the evidences of it." A soft-footed black servant came in, snuffed the candles, put a fresh log upon the fire, and disappeared. "And any recollections I have of my uncle," added Anthony, "are based on impressions carried away with me as a boy." Dr. King smiled, but at the same time there was a grave look in his eyes. "Upon the whole," said he, "those things might be a very fair base upon which to form a judgment of him. For if there ever has been a man who took what may be called the spirit of boyhood into his after life it is your uncle." Anthony looked at him questioningly, and the doctor went on. "Your father was always the thoughtful one, as a lad; I remember that quite well. His sums were always done methodically; his maps were drawn with care. Charles was your slap-dash fellow. A great reader, but of romances, of obscure histories, of the lives of men whose doings, as set down, do not often meet the common eye. Your father, as a boy, formed a plan for his work and went through with it, conscientiously. Charles loved to browse and dream; and then his mind would suddenly leap into life, and carry out some extraordinary idea. He does this still." "What you are telling me does not make a usual equipment for a merchant," said Anthony. "No," replied Dr. King. "And it is an equipment that has made many a circumspect dealer stand aghast. But, in spite of his seeming lack of qualifications as a merchant, Charles is a magnificent one. He detests plodding; he hates detail; with routine he will have nothing to do. I doubt if any one has ever seen him foot up a column of figures or turn to a ledger for a point of information; yet no man anywhere is more possessed of the spirit of commerce. But it is commerce as a pageant, as a spectacle, a wide, spirited vision, rich with color, alive with movement, remarkable with discovery. There is nothing of the huckster in Charles; he is no mere chafferer or trafficker in commodities. In his mind ships are not dull things of oak, stuffed with cargo; they are the laden argosies of the world, crossing the seven seas, their sails filled with glory." Anthony's eyes shone. "Why," said he, "I think I understand that."