"Well ?" the boy demanded, "What do you think of his chances ?" "I don't know," said Roger huskily.

He felt a tightening at his throat.
Abruptly he turned to his grandson.
"George," he asked, "what do _you_ want to be ?" The boy flushed under his freckles.
"I don't know as I know.

I'm thinking," he answered very slowly.
"Talk it over with your mother, son." "Yes, sir," came the prompt reply.

"But he won't," reflected Roger.
"Or if you ever feel you want to, have a good long talk with me." "Yes, sir," was the answer.

Roger stood there waiting, then turned and walked slowly out of the barn.