"Ah, but I'm sorry to hear that. You should have concentrated
yourself by now, indeed you should. If I had to begin over again, I
should go in for commerce."
Piers gave him a look of interest.
"Indeed? You mean that?"
"I do. I would apply myself to the science and art of money-making
in the only hopeful way--honest buying and selling. There's
something so satisfying about it. I envy even the little shopkeeper,
who reckons up his profits every Saturday night, and sees his
business growing. But you must begin early; you must learn
money-making like anything else. If I had made money, Piers, I
should be at this moment the most virtuous and meritorious citizen
of the British Empire!"
Alexander was vexed to find that his brother did not smoke. He lit
his pipe after tea, and for a couple of hours talked ceaselessly,
relating the course of his adventurous life; an entertaining story,
told with abundant vigour, with humorous originality. Though he had
in his possession scarce a dozen volumes, Alexander was really a
bookish man and something of a scholar; his quotations, which were
frequent, ranged from Homer to Horace, from Chaucer to Tennyson. He
recited a few of his own poetical compositions, and they might have
been worse; Piers made him glow and sparkle with a little praise.
Meanwhile, Bridget was putting the children to bed and cooking the
evening meal--styled dinner for this occasion.
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