It had seemed an easy, insignificant task to break the news five minutes ago, but either Christopher had taken the wrong approach or it was a stiffer job than he had fancied. He became uneasily conscious his own part in it could not be overlooked, that he was doing something that evilly-disposed persons might even call magnanimous or philanthropic. His face grew red at the thought. "Sam," he said as naturally as he could, "it happens you can choose, you see. Choose anything you like. Caesar's given me a free hand. We are both to start life just as we like. What shall it be? I've told you my choice." The narrow form in front never slackened its stroke, but pulled on mechanically, and at last spoke a little gruffly. "Say. You're kidding me, you know." "I'm not. Dead earnest." Again the boat shot on, but Christopher stopped rowing. Sam looked back over his shoulder. "You're lazy. Why don't you pull?" Christopher obeyed mechanically. He knew he could afford to be patient now. "Easy," said the stroke at last. There was a smooth reach of water before them. Low meadows with reddish muddy banks lay on either side, no house or any living soul was in sight. Sam rubbed his hands on his trousers, looked back at his friend and away again. "You mean you'll start me in any trade I like? 'Prentice me?" "Any trade or profession." "What do you do it for, anyhow?" "Caesar suggested it. He said I might if I liked." "Well, why do you do it?" "Does it matter?" "I want to know certain." Christopher looked embarrassed. "Weren't we kids together? Besides, it seems to me every chap ought to have a chance of working on the job he likes best. It's only fair. It's jolly rough on a fellow to have to do just what comes along whether he's fit for it or not." "Seems to me," said Sam meditatively, "a good many jobs would want doing if everyone did what they liked." "Oh, science would step in and equalise that," returned Christopher, hastily quoting from some handbook and went on to further expound his creed. Sam concluded he had been listening to spouters in the Park, but he was sharp enough to recognise beneath the crude boyish creed the kindly generous nature that prompted it. "So Caesar says you've just to choose. We'll see you through." "He must be jolly rich." "Well, that's why he's rich, isn't it, to be able to do things." "I don't see what he gets out of it anyhow." "He doesn't want anything, you silly." "I want to think this out," said Sam, "there is something I've always wanted since I was a kiddy, but I want to think. Row on." This was intelligible and encouraging. Christopher's sense of flatness gave way a little. He pulled steadily, trying to make out what had so dashed him in Sam's reception of the great news. He had not yet learnt how exceptional is the mind that can accept a favour graciously. After nearly ten minutes' silence Sam spoke again. "Well, then, I'd like to be a grocer," and straightway pulled furiously.