“Well, there’s something in that,” John replied, meditatively. “Some time I’m going to write a leader on the organized indifference of modern city society to what becomes of young men who deserve its good offices and drift into beer saloons because they are not forthcoming. It would make the _Banner_ immensely solid with orthodox people.” “You wouldn’t have wanted me to go to the Young Men’s Christian Association, I suppose?” “No-o, I don’t know that I would. I don’t know, after all, that you could have done much differently. But you’ve done enough of it, do you understand? You have served your time; you have taken your diploma. It is time now to quit. And I can put you on to a man, now, who will help you on the other tack. Do you see Ansdell, ahead there?” “Yes;--is he the man who told you about Workman and me?” John ignored the question. “Ansdell is one of the cleverest men going; he’s head and shoulders over anybody else there is in Tecumseh, or in this part of the State. For you to know him will be a college education in itself. He is more than a big lawyer, he is a student and thinker; more than that, he is a reformer; best of all, he is a man of the world, who has sown more wild oats than would fill Albert’s new bins, and there’s not an atom of nonsense about him. He knows about you. We’ve talked you over together. He understands my idea of what you ought to be, and he can help you more than any other man alive--and what is more he will.” “It was he who told you about me, wasn’t it?” Seth persisted. “If you will know, it was and it wasn’t. All he said was that he had heard Workman speak of you; that he had got the idea from his tone that you were not making the most of your opportunities; that he thought this was a great pity; and that if he could be of any use to you he would be very glad. That is all--and not even your sulkiness can make anything but kindness out of it.” This practically ended the dialogue, for the others had stopped to let the brothers come up, and John shortly after left the party.