INSPIRATION

"Look here, Nat," demanded Kellogg, when they were half way through the
meal, "do you mind telling me what you're going to do?"

Duncan pondered this soberly. "No," he replied in the end.

Kellogg waited a moment, but his guest did not continue. "What does
that kind of a 'No' mean, Nat?"

"It means I don't mind telling you."

Again an appreciable pause elapsed.

"Well, then, what do you mean to do?"

"I'm sure I don't know."

Kellogg regarded him sombrely for a moment, then in silence returned
his attention to his plate; and in silence, for the most part, the
remainder of the dinner was served and eaten. Duncan himself had
certainly enough to occupy his mind, while Kellogg had altogether
forgotten his own cause for rejoicing in his concern for the fortunes
of his friend. He was entirely of the opinion that something would have
to be done for Nat, with or without his consent; and he sounded the
profoundest depths of romantic impossibilities in his attempts to
discover some employment suited to Duncan's interesting but
impracticable assortment of faculties and qualifications, natural and
acquired. But nothing presented itself as feasible in view of the fact
that employment which would prove immediately remunerative was