Then Remsen struck a match on the stone.
"'Scratch--pouf!'" he said musingly, relighting his pipe.

In the act of tossing the charred splinter away he stopped; then he laid it beside him on the step.

"Good little match," he muttered.

Joel laughed softly.
"March," asked Remsen presently, "have you changed your mind yet about studying law ?" "No; but sometimes I get discouraged when I think of what a time it will take to arrive anywhere.

And sometimes, too, I begin to think that a fellow who can't talk more readily than I ought to go into the hardware business or raise chickens for a living instead of trying to make a lawyer out of himself." "It isn't altogether talk, March," answered Remsen, "that makes a good lawyer.