Ambrose refused to be silenced. Looking around the luxurious room he
felt inclined to remark, that Gaviller had made a pretty good thing out
of the despised race, but he checked himself.

"Sometimes I think we never give them a show," he said with a
deprecating air, "We're always trying to cut them to our own pattern
instead of taking them as they are. They are like schoolboys, as you
say.

"Most of the trouble with them comes from the fact that anybody can
lead them into mischief, just like boys. If we think of what we were
like ourselves before we put on long trousers it helps to understand
them."

Gaviller raised his eyebrows a little at hearing the law laid down by
twenty-five years old.

"Ah!" he said quizzically. "In my day the use of the rod was thought
necessary to make boys into men!"

Ambrose grew a little warm. "Certainly!" he said. "But it depends on
the spirit with which it is applied. How can we do anything with them
if we treat them like dirt?"

"You are quite successful in handling them?" queried Gaviller dryly.

"Peter Minot says so," said Ambrose simply. "That is why he took me
into partnership."