The other was Grant Maitland, whose knowledge of men and of life, gained at cost of desperate conflict, made the youth's soul an open book to him.
Recognising the boy's aptitude, he had in holiday seasons set Tony behind the machines in his planing mill, determined for his father's sake to make of him a mechanical engineer.

To Tony each new machine was a toy to be played with; in a week or two he had mastered it and grown weary of it.

Thenceforth he slacked at his work and became a demoralizing influence in his department, a source of anxiety to his steady-going father, a plague to his employer, till the holiday time was done.
"Were you my son, my lad, I'd soon settle you," Grant Maitland would say, when the boy was ready to go back to his school.

"You will make a mess of your life unless you can learn to stick at your job.

The roads are full of clever tramps, remember that, my boy." But Tony only smiled his brilliant smile at him, as he took his pay envelope, which burned a hole in his pocket till he had done with it.
When the next holiday came round Tony would present himself for a job with Jack Maitland to plead for him.