“I don't know another fellow I could come to with a question like this, Jack; but you understand these things; you know life. You've learned things already that the rest of us spend the most of our lives finding out. Now what would you say--how far do you think a man ought to go in sticking to the idea of an education?” Le Due's “education,” for several years now, had consisted of the study of elocution, with an occasional peck at English Literature or the French language, and a few, a very few, disastrous examinations. “I've got an offer to quit college right now to go in as second comedian with the Pooh Bah Company. They offer thirty dollars a week to begin with, with every prospect for a future. It is a rising company, you see--a sure thing. They are as safe as the First National Bank. If that were just the work I wanted, I couldn't do better.” Halloran was sitting back with his hat down on his forehead, listening conscientiously, but losing a word now and then, thanks to the roar of the train. “You see, old chap, I set my mind on Shakespeare when I first came to college. I decided then it would be Shakespeare or nothing with me. A man's got to have a goal, you know; he's got to aim high or he will never get anywhere; and my goal has been Shakespeare. But the question is just this: Ought I to give up this offer, when it may be my chance to get a good start on the stage? I might be able to work up into Shakespeare by keeping at this for awhile, and making a professional acquaintance, and saving up money. Men have done it, you know. What do you say?” He evidently really expected an answer, so Halloran gave it to him. “I am afraid you'll have to decide that for yourself, Apples. If you care enough for first-class work to stick it out in college and then take your chances, you ought to do it: if you don't, take this. That's all I can say.” With which casual conversation did an evening begin that later promised to influence considerably the lives of several members of the party. They found a crowd of ragged boys and girls at the Settlement. Le Duc was to “read” for them; but he found himself fairly eclipsed by the performances of two of their own number, one a youthful dancer with a wizened face and remarkably thin legs, named Jimmie McGinnis, the other a dark-eyed girl, one Lizzie Bigelow, who sang some popular songs in a really good natural voice. This girl made an immediate impression on Apples. At the close of her first song he stopped applauding long enough to say confidentially to Halloran, “Remarkable what a lot of talent you find among these people. That girl ought to be in the profession. Really a stunning girl--and clever, awfully clever. Splendid! Splendid!” he exclaimed again, turning toward her as she came into the hall, and applauding vigorously. She laughed and shook her head, but made no reply. She evidently liked applause. “You must have studied--to sing like that,” Le Duc went on.