At the close of his freshman year in June, Ben came back home, and that personal interest took the place of every other in Carter’s mind. The boy was looking fine. Drill with the Harvard regiment had taken the place of athletics and had left him as rugged and tanned as a seasoned soldier. Carter proudly took the boy to town with him on the eight-ten and introduced him to the crowd. Then he introduced him to everyone in the office, including Stetson, the second vice president. There was some design in this. He was preparing the way for an opening here for Ben as soon as the lad was through college. With the benefit of the experience Carter could give him the boy ought to climb high in the Atlas. Ben had acquired poise in this last year. He met these men with an assurance and charm of manner tempered with respectful deference that surprised his father. It was clear that the boy made a very pleasant impression. At lunch Ben repeated to his father some of the experiences he had heard from college mates who had gone over to drive ambulances. The boy was full of it and his cheeks grew flushed as he talked. Carter became disturbed. “That’s all very well,” broke in Carter; “but those fellows might have made themselves more useful if they had waited until they were of age. Both President Lowell and the War Department are advising men to wait and finish their college courses, aren’t they?” “Yes,” admitted Ben; “they advise that.” “Well, it’s sound advice,” declared Carter. “A man with a college education and Plattsburg on top of that is worth twenty ambulance drivers. Officers are what we need.” “I suppose so,” agreed Ben abstractedly. The reply left Carter more comfortable. The boy was only just nineteen, and that gave him two more years before he was twenty-one. By that time the war would be over. Carter was sure of it. The nation by then would be in full stride, and when that time came that was to be the end. Of course, if by any chance the war should be prolonged—why, then the boy would have to go. But that contingency was two years off—two long years off. In the meanwhile the boy could feel that he was getting his training. He was going to make a better officer for waiting. He would gain in experience and judgment—two most necessary qualifications for an officer. Carter proceeded to enlarge on that subject. But the boy listened indifferently. Carter’s position, however, was sound, and the more he talked the more he convinced himself of this, so that he succeeded in putting himself enough at ease to talk of the war in a general way. “Sort of makes a man glad he’s an American to be living in these days, eh, Ben?” “You bet!” nodded Ben. “The rest of the world thought we’d gone soft, but your old Uncle Sam has shown that he still has fighting stuff in him. It took us some time to get stirred up, but once started—woof!” “We’ve got a big job on our hands,” said Ben.