“'Twasn't that. I don't know whether I would have wanted you to go there or not if things had been different. From what I hear it was a pretty extravagant place, and lookin' at it from the outside without knowin' too much about it, I should say it was liable to put a lot of foolish and expensive notions into a boy's head. I may be wrong, of course; I have been wrong at least a few times in my life.” It was evident that he considered the chances of his being wrong in this instance very remote. His tone again aroused in the youth the feeling of obstinacy, of rebellion, of desire to take the other side. “It is one of the best schools in this country,” he declared. “My father said so.” Captain Zelotes picked up a pencil on his desk and tapped his chin lightly with the blunt end. “Um,” he mused. “Well, I presume likely he knew all about it.” “He knew as much as--most people,” with a slight but significant hesitation before the “most.” “Um-hm. Naturally, havin' been schooled there himself, I suppose.” “He wasn't schooled there. My father was a Spaniard.” “So I've heard. . . . Well, we're kind of off the subject, ain't we? Let's leave your father's nationality out of it for a while. And we'll leave the school, too, because no matter if it was the best one on earth you couldn't go there. I shouldn't feel 'twas right to spend as much money as that at any school, and you--well, son, you ain't got it to spend. Did you have any idea what your father left you, in the way of tangible assets?” “No. I knew he had plenty of money always. He was one of the most famous singers in this country.” “Maybe so.” “It WAS so,” hotly. “And he was paid enough in one week to buy this whole town--or almost. Why, my father--” “Sshh! Sssh!” “No, I'm not going to hush. I'm proud of my father. He was a--a great man. And--and I'm not going to stand here and have you--” Between indignation and emotion he choked and could not finish the sentence. The tears came to his eyes. “I'm not going to have you or anyone else talk about him that way,” he concluded, fiercely. His grandfather regarded him with a steady, but not at all unkindly, gaze. “I ain't runnin' down your father, Albert,” he said. “Yes, you are. You hated him. Anybody could see you hated him.” The captain slowly rapped the desk with the pencil. He did not answer at once. “Well,” he said, after a moment, “I don't know as I ought to deny that. I don't know as I can deny it and be honest. Years ago he took away from me what amounted to three-quarters of everything that made my life worth while. Some day you'll know more about it than you do now, and maybe you'll understand my p'int of view better. No, I didn't like your father--Eh? What was you sayin'?” Albert, who had muttered something, was rather confused. However, he did not attempt to equivocate. “I said I guessed that didn't make much difference to Father,” he answered, sullenly.