what all. Why, I--"

"Jock McChesney," said that young man's bewildered mother, "just what
did T. A. Buck, Junior, say to you anyway?"

"Plenty. Enough to make me see things. I used to think that I wanted
to get into one of the professions. Professions! You talk about the
romance of a civil engineer's life! Why, to be a successful business
man these days you've got to be a buccaneer, and a diplomat, and a
detective, and a clairvoyant, and an expert mathematician, and a
wizard. Business--just plain everyday business--is the gamiest,
chanciest, most thrilling line there is to-day, and I'm for it. Let
the other guy hang out his shingle and wait for 'em. I'm going out and
get mine."

"Any particular line, or just planning to corner the business market
generally?" came a cool, not too amused voice from the bed.

"Advertising," replied Jock crisply. "Magazine advertising, to start
with. I met a fellow up in the woods--named O'Rourke. He was a star
football man at Yale. He's bucking the advertising line now for the
_Mastodon Magazine_. He's crazy about it, and says it's the greatest
game ever. I want to get into it now--not four years from now."

He stopped abruptly. Emma McChesney regarded him, eyes glowing. Then
she gave a happy little laugh, reached for her kimono at the foot of
the bed, and prepared to kick off the bedclothes.

"Just run into the hall a second, son," she announced. "I'm going to
get up."