"Ay, into his balance. So you pinched him at the wrong moment, and pinched out ninepence in the pound. Why the devil couldn't you have learnt something of the _man? He_ was all right. If you'd done that, you might have recovered every penny, earned his gratitude, and done dashed good business." He shut the ledger with a slam. "Lock 'em up," he commanded, lighting a fresh cigar, "and come up to the Hoe for a stroll. Where the deuce did you pick up that hat?" "Bankrupt stock." "I thought so. Maybe you've invested in a full suit of mourning for _me_, at the same time?" "No, sir." "Why not? The books are all right. You've no range. Still, within your scope you're efficient. You'll get to your goal, such as it is. You wear a hat that makes me ill, but in some way you and your hat will represent the survival of the fittest. What's the boy like?" "He ails at times, sir--being without a mother's care. I am having him privately instructed. He has some youthful stirrings toward grace." Old Rosewarne swung round at a standstill. "Grace?" he echoed, for the moment supposing it the name of a girl. Then perceiving his mistake, he broke out into a short laugh; but the laugh ended bitterly, and his face twitched with pain. "Look here, Sam; I'm going to leave you the money. Don't stare--and don't, I beg, madden me with your thanks."-- "I'm sure, sir."-- "You'll get it because I can't help myself. There's your half-sister's children at home; but of what use to me is a girl or a blind boy? You are narrow--narrow as the grave: but I find that, like the grave, you are inevitable; and, like the grave, you keep what you get. For the kind of finance that was the true game of manhood to your grandfather and me, you have no capacity whatever. No, I cannot explain. Finance? Why, you haven't even a _sense_ of it. Yet in a way you are capable. You will make the money yield interest, and will keep the race going. That is what I look to--you will keep the race going. Now I want to speak about that boy of yours. Do me the only favour I have ever asked you--send him to a public school, and afterwards to college, and let him have his fling." Sam thought his father must have gone mad. "What, sir! After all you have said of such places! 'Dens of idleness,' 'sinks of iniquity'--I have heard you scores of times!"