But the real thing is association--the friendships one makes, the knowledge of human nature and of--of life." "What does that mean ?" Arthur had been answering Hiram's questions in a flurry, though he had been glib enough.

He had had no fear that his father would appreciate that he was getting half-truths, or, rather, truths prepared skillfully for paternal consumption; his flurry had come from a sense that he was himself not doing quite the manly, the courageous thing.

Now, however, something in the tone of the last question, or, perhaps, some element that was lacking, roused in him a suspicion of depth in his simple unworldly father; and swift upon this awakening came a realization that he was floundering in that depth--and in grave danger of submersion.

He shifted nervously when his father, without looking up and without putting any expression into his voice, repeated: "What do you mean by associations--and life--and--all that ?" "I can't explain exactly," replied Arthur.

"It would take a long time." "I haven't asked you to be brief." "I can't put it into words." "Why not ?" "You would misunderstand." "Why ?" Arthur made no reply.
"Then you can't tell me what you go to college for ?" Again the young man looked perplexedly at his father.