On the southerly curb, talking with each other, stood Halpert McCormack and Ben Barriscale. They had both reached the age of eighteen years. The one straight, slender and fair-haired, was telling the other that he had obtained employment in the Citizens’ Bank and was to begin work there the following day. The career thus to be begun was not the one that had been planned for him. He was to have gone to college and then into one of the learned professions. But the death of his father soon after his own graduation from a preparatory school made it necessary to change the plans for his future, and he was to go into business instead. “It’s too bad,” said Ben, “that you had to cut out your college course. You should have been a professor of something or other, you’re so chock full of wisdom. What was it the boys used to call you? Socrates?” “I believe so.” “And you were going to set the world right; weren’t you?” “Well, I thought there were some things in the world that needed to be set right; I still think so.” “For instance?” “For instance, the unequal distribution of wealth.” “Oh, every one can’t be rich. Who’d do the world’s work?” “No, every one can’t be rich, that’s true. But if things were properly adjusted every one would have plenty, and there would be no poverty.” “That’s some of your socialistic nonsense, Hal. I’ve got a right to be rich if I can get the money honestly. And I’m going to be rich, too, if hard work will get me there.” “Ah, but you’re Benjamin Barriscale’s son. And your father is a millionaire. And you’ve got a chance that no other fellow in this town has. That’s what I’m finding fault with. Opportunity should be equal for all of us. And when things are set right it will be.” How much longer this sociological discussion would have continued had it not been interrupted is uncertain. But it was interrupted. An automobile drew up to the curb, and in it was seated Miss Sarah Halpert, alone save for the driver of the car. Her appearance and manner indicated that she was a woman of some importance in the community. She was appropriately gowned, attractive in looks, and under the brim of her flower-bedecked hat her abundant hair showed becomingly gray. The fair-haired boy greeted her cordially as Aunt Sarah, the dark and stocky one with due courtesy, as Miss Halpert. “I suppose you boys are here to see the flag-raising,” she said. “I’m sorry I can’t stay for it. I like the idea tremendously.” She turned to face the dark-haired boy and continued: “I’m not a great admirer of your father, Ben, everybody knows that. But I certainly commend him for heading the movement to put this flag here. Parades and speeches are all right enough in their way; but when it comes to inspiring genuine patriotism, give me the sight of ‘Old Glory’ waving in the breeze every time.”