“Here’s Seth,” continued John, without noting the disclaimer. “You and I had _some_ advantages--of course, mine were not to be compared with yours, but still I was given a chance, such as it was and I don’t know that I would trade what I learned at work during college years for a college education--but this poor boy, who’s thought about him, who’s given him a chance to show what’s in him? He’s been allowed to come up as he could, almost like any farm laborer. His mother tried to do her little, but what spirit did she have for it, and what time did the drudgery here give him? Thank God! He’s had the stuff in him to work at education himself, and he’s got the making of the best man of us three. But it’s no thanks to you. And _that’s_ why we feel hard, Albert. Nobody supposes you could make a good farmer and manager out of father; nobody blames you for a bad hop season, or the dishonesty of Biggs. But I do say that of us three brothers there’s one who frets and worries over the thing, and though he’s a poor man, does all he can afford to do, and more too, to help make it better; and there’s another, young, ambitious, capable, whose nose is held down to the grindstone, and the best years of whose life are being miserably spent in a hopeless wrestling with debt and disaster; and there’s a third brother, the oldest brother, rich, easy, enjoying all the luxuries of life, who don’t give a damn about it all! _That’s_ what I say, and if you don’t like it, you needn’t!” The silence which ensued was of the kind that can be felt. The two cigars at the corners of the old curb glowed intermittently in the darkness. John’s had gone out during his speech, and as he re-lighted it, the glare of the match showed an excited, indignant face. There was no room for doubt, after the momentary exhibit which the red light made, that John was very much in earnest. Albert was thinking laboriously on his answer. Meantime, he said, to fill the interval “Do you like the cigar?” “Yes; a fifteen center, isn’t it?” Albert had it in his mind to say truthfully that he paid $180 per thousand, but the fear of invidious comparisons rose before him in time, and he said “About that, I think.” He waited a moment, still meditating, and threw out another stop-gap: “It’s curious how the rhetorical habit grows on a man who writes leading articles. I noticed that you used three adjectives every time, the regular cumulative thing, you know.” “Maybe so; it would be more to the purpose to hear what you think about the spirit of my oration; the form doesn’t matter so much.”