Part 4 (1/2)
”Hey, what?” said Mr. Repton, puzzled and a little annoyed at the young man's manner.
”I was saying, Mr. Repton, that I am not punctual. I have dreamy fits which sometimes make me completely forget an appointment. And I have a silly habit of cutting things too fine, which makes me miss trains and things, I think I ought to tell you while I am about it, but I simply cannot get up early in the morning. There are days when I manage to do so under the excitement of a coming journey or for some other form of pleasure, but as a rule I postpone my rising until the very latest possible moment.”
George having thus delivered himself closed his lips and was silent.
”Humph!” said Mr. Repton. It was not what the boy had said so much as the impression of oddness which affected that worthy man. He did not like it, and he was not quite sure of his ground. He was about to put another question, when George volunteered a further statement:
”I don't drink,” he said, ”and at my age it is not easy to understand what the vice of continual drunkenness may be, but I shouldn't wonder if that would be my temptation later on, and it is only fair to tell you that, young as I am, I have twice grossly exceeded in wine; on one occasion, not a year ago, the servants at a house where I was stopping carried me to bed.”
”They did?” said Mr. Repton drily.
”Yes,” said George, ”they did.” Then there was a silence for a s.p.a.ce of at least three minutes.
”My dear young man,” said Mr. Repton, rising, ”do you feel any apt.i.tude for a City career?”
”None,” said George decisively.
”Pray,” said Mr. Repton (who had grown-up children of his own and could not help speaking with a touch of sarcasm--he thought it good for boys in the lunatic stage), ”pray,” said he, looking quizzically down at the unhappy but firm-minded George as he sat there in his chair, ”is there any form of work for which you do feel an apt.i.tude?”
”Yes, certainly,” said George confidently.
”And what is that?” said Mr. Repton, his smile beginning again.
”The drama,” said George without hesitation, ”the poetic drama. I ought to tell you that I have received no encouragement from those who are the best critics of this art, though I have submitted my work to many since I left school. Some have said that my work was commonplace, others that it was imitative; all have agreed that it was dull, and they have unanimously urged me to abandon every thought of such composition. Nevertheless I am convinced that I have the highest possible talents not only in this department of letters but in all.”
”You believe yourself,” said Mr. Repton, with a touch of severity, ”to be an exceptional young man?”
George nodded. ”I do,” he said, ”quite exceptional. I should have used a stronger term had I been speaking of the matter myself. I think I have genius, or, rather, I am sure I have; and, what is more, genius of a very high order.”
”Well,” said Mr. Repton, sighing, ”I don't think we shall get any forrader. Have you been working much lately?” he asked anxiously-- ”examinations or anything?”
”No,” said George quietly. ”I always feel like this.”
”Indeed!” said Mr. Repton, who was now convinced that the poor boy had intended no discourtesy. ”Well, I wonder whether you would mind taking back a note to your father?”
”Not at all,” said George courteously.
Mr. Repton in his turn wrote a short letter, in which he begged George's father not to take offence at an old friend's advice, recalled to his memory the long and faithful friends.h.i.+p between them, pointed out that outsiders could often see things which members of a family could not, and wound up by begging George's father to give George a good holiday. ”Not alone,” he concluded; ”I don't think that would be quite safe, but in company with some really trustworthy man a little older than himself, who won't get on his nerves and yet will know how to look after him. He must get right away for some weeks,” added the kind old man, ”and after that I should advise you to keep him at home and let him have some gentle occupation. Don't encourage him in writing. I think he would take kindly to _gardening_. But I won't write any more: I will come and see you about it.”
Bearing that missive back did George reach his home.... All this pa.s.sed in the year 1895, and that is why George is to-day one of the best electrical engineers in the country, instead of being a banker; and that shows how good always comes, one way or another, of telling the truth.
ON THRUPPENNY BITS
Philip, King of Macedon, destroyer of the liberties of Greece, and father to Alexander who tamed the horse Bucephalus, called for the tutor of that lad, one Aristotle (surnamed the Teacher of the Human Race), to propound to him a question that had greatly troubled him; for in counting out his money (which was his habit upon a was.h.i.+ng day, when the Queen's appet.i.te for afternoon tea and honey had rid him of her presence) he discovered mixed with his treasure such an intolerable number of thruppenny bits as very nearly drove him to despair.
On this account King Philip of Macedon, destroyer of the liberties of Greece, sent for Aristotle, his hanger-on, as one capable of answering any question whatsoever, and said to him (when he had entered with a profound obeisance):
”Come, Aristotle, answer me straight; what is the use of a thruppenny bit?”