school yet. Other fellows whose fathers aren't earning as much--"

"Fathers," interrupted Emma McChesney. "There you are. Jock, I don't
have to make the distinction for you. You're sufficiently my son to
know it, in your heart. I had planned to give you a college education,
if you showed yourself deserving. I don't believe in sending a boy in
your position to college unless he shows some special leaning toward a
profession."

"Mother, you know how wild I am about machines, and motors, and
engineering, and all that goes with it. Why I'd work--"

"You'll have to, Jock. That's the only thing that will make a man of
you. I've started you wrong, but it isn't too late yet. It's all very
well for boys with rich fathers to run to clothes, and city jaunts,
and 'chickens,' and cabs and flowers. Your mother is working tooth and
nail to earn her six thousand, and when you realize just what it means
for a woman to battle against men in a man's game, you'll stop being a
spender, and become an earner--because you'll want to. I'll tell you
what I'm going to do, Kid. I'm going to take you on the road with me
for two weeks. You'll learn so many things that at the end of that
time the sides of your head will be bulging."

"I'd like it!" exclaimed the boy, sitting up. "It will be regular
fun."

"No, it won't," said Emma McChesney; "not after the first three or
four days. But it will be worth more to you than a foreign tour and a
private tutor."