the son of my old friend, Hilary Vane. Sit down--sit down. And while I
don't believe any man should depend upon his father to launch him in the
world, yet it must be a great satisfaction to you, Mr. Vane, to have such
a father. Hilary Vane and I have been intimately associated for many
years, and my admiration for him has increased with every year. It is to
men of his type that the prosperity, the greatness, of this nation is
largely due,--conservative, upright, able, content to confine himself to
the difficult work for which he is so eminently fitted, without
spectacular meddling in things in which he can have no concern. Therefore
I welcome the opportunity to know you, sir, for I understand that you
have settled down to follow in his footsteps and that you will make a
name for yourself. I know the independence of young men--I was young once
myself. But after all, Mr. Vane, experience is the great teacher, and
perhaps there is some little advice which an old man can give you that
may be of service. As your father's son, it is always at your disposal.
Have a cigar."

The thin secretary continued to flit about the room, between the
letter-files and the desk. Austen had found it infinitely easier to shoot
Mr. Blodgett than to engage in a duel with the president of the United
Railroad.

"I smoke a pipe," he said.

"Too many young men smoke cigars--and those disgusting cigarettes," said
Mr. Flint, with conviction. "There are a lot of worthless young men in
these days, anyhow. They come to my house and loaf and drink and smoke,
and talk a lot of nonsense about games and automobiles and clubs, and
cumber the earth generally. There's a young man named Crewe over at
Leith, for instance--you may have seen him. Not that he's dissipated