“If the boy doesn’t seem to develop an interest in some of these branches, put some deserving one in his place, and put him at something else,” he said. “I want him to have his try at everything, develop the best that is in him. So we’ll pay for everything you’ve got there, and that will help out some other poor boy perhaps, for, of course one boy can’t do everything. I’ll arrange it with my lawyer that the payments shall be made regularly for the next twelve years, so that if anything happens to me, or if this boy runs away or doesn’t turn out worthy, you will keep on getting the money just the same, and some one else can come in on it.” Professor Harkness went away from the office with a smile on his face and in his pocket three letters of introduction to wealthy benevolent business men of New York. Mikky was to go South with him the middle of the next week. Endicott went home that afternoon with relief of mind, but he found in his heart a most surprising reluctance to part with the beautiful boy. When the banker told Mikky that he was going to send him to “college,” and explained to him that an education would enable him to become a good man and perhaps a great one, the boy’s face was very grave. Mikky had never felt the need of an education, and the thought of going away from New York gave him a sensation as if the earth were tottering under his feet. He shook his head doubtfully. “Kin I take Buck an’ de kids?” he asked after a thoughtful pause, and with a lifting of the cloud in his eyes. “No,” said Endicott. “It costs a good deal to go away to school, and there wouldn’t be anyone to send them.” Mikky’s eyes grew wide with something like indignation, and he shook his head. “Nen I couldn’t go,” he said decidedly. “I couldn’t take nothin’ great like that and not give de kids any. We’ll stick together. I’ll stay wid de kids. They needs me.” “But Mikky—” the man looked into the large determined eyes and settled down for combat—“you don’t understand, boy. It would be impossible for them to go. I couldn’t send them all, but I _can_ send you, and I’m going to, because you risked your life to save little Starr.” “That wasn’t nothin’ t’all!” declared Mikky with fine scorn. “It was everything to me,” said the man, “and I want to do this for you. And boy, it’s your duty to take this. It’s everybody’s duty to take the opportunities for advancement that come to them.” Mikky looked at him thoughtfully. He did not understand the large words, and duty meant to him a fine sense of loyalty to those who had been loyal to him. “I got to stay wid de kids,” he said. “Dey needs me.” With an exasperated feeling that it was useless to argue against this calmly stated fact, Endicott began again gently: “But Mikky, you can help them a lot more by going to college than by staying at home.” The boy’s eyes looked unconvinced but he waited for reasons.