"You will have to decide now what walk in life you are to--er--devote
yourself to."

"Yes," said Peer again, sitting up straighter.

"You would perhaps like to be a fisherman--like the good people you've
been brought up among?"

"No." Peer shook his head disdainfully. Was this man trying to make a
fool of him?

"Some trade, then, perhaps?"

"No!"

"Oh, then I suppose it's to be America. Well, you will easily find
company to go with. Such numbers are going nowadays--I am sorry to say.
. . ."

Peer pulled himself together. "Oh, no, not that at all." Better get it
out at once. "I wish to be a priest," he said, speaking with a careful
town accent.

The schoolmaster rose from his seat, holding his long pipe up in the air
in one hand, and pressing his ear forward with the other, as though to
hear better. "What?--what did you say?"

"A priest," repeated Peer, but he moved behind his chair as he spoke,
for it looked as if the schoolmaster might fling the pipe at his head.