He graduated with high honors in the mathematical branches and in languages. Then the no less firm because feminine hand of Aunt Clarissa grasped him, so to speak, by the collar and guided him to the portals of the banking house of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot, where “Cousin Gussie” took him in charge with the instructions to make a financier of him. “Cousin Gussie,” junior member of the firm, then in his early thirties, thrust his hands into the pockets of his smart tweed trousers, tilted from heels to toes of his stylish and very shiny shoes and whistled beneath his trim mustache. He had met Galusha often before, but that fact did not make him more optimistic, rather the contrary. “So you want to be a banker, do you, Loosh?” he asked. Galusha regarded him sadly through the spectacles. “Auntie wants me to be one,” he said. The experiment lasted a trifle over six months. At the end of that time the junior partner of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot had another interview with his firm's most recent addition to its list of employees. “You're simply no good at the job, that's the plain truth,” said the banker, with the candor of exasperation. “You've cost us a thousand dollars more than your salary already by mistakes and forgetfulness and all the rest of it. You'll never make your salt at this game in a million years. Don't you know it, yourself?” Galusha nodded. “Yes,” he said, simply. “Eh? Oh, you do! Well, that's something.” “I knew it when I came here.” “Knew you would be no good at the job?” “At this job, yes.” “Then for heaven's sake why did you take it?” “I told you. Aunt Clarissa wanted me to.” “Well, you can't stay here, that's all. I'm sorry.” “So am I, for Auntie's sake and yours. I realize I have made you a lot of--ah--trouble.” “Oh, that's all right, that's all right. Hang it all, I feel like a beast to chuck you out this way, but I have partners, you know. What will you do now?” “I don't know.” Cousin Gussie reflected. “I think perhaps you'd better go back to Aunt Clarissa,” he said. “Possibly she will tell you what to do. Don't you think she will?” “Yes.” “Humph! You seem to be mighty sure of it. How do you know she will?” For the first time a gleam, a very slight and almost pathetic gleam, of humor shone behind Galusha's spectacles. “Because she always does,” he said. And thus ended his connection with the banking profession. Aunt Clarissa was disgusted and disappointed, of course. She expressed her feelings without reservation. However, she laid most of the blame upon heredity. “You got it from that impractical librarian,” she declared. “Why did Dorothy marry him? She might have known what the result would be.” Galusha was more downcast even than his relative. “I'm awfully sorry, Aunt Clarissa,” he said. “I realize I am a dreadful disappointment to you. I tried, I honestly did, but--”