He learned that nobody will find it out — at least not till the rear-end burns out, months later — if you save your energy by squirting only a quarter enough grease into the differential. He learned to get something very like a nap, after lunch and a couple of Bourbons, by lying under a car and in a friendly manner tapping the springs with a hammer now and then. And the chief mechanic was indulgent when the Son of the Boss got a group about him and taught them ‘Three Cheers for Old TruxON’.

Howard perceived that he had been wrong in regarding his second cousin, Cal Tillery, as a lout and a bore. Cal might never achieve life’s prime purpose and learn to sell motor cars to bankers; Cal’s hair might resemble a ravelled gunnysack; but in the wholesome fastnesses of the Adirondacks, Cal had developed a rustic slyness that to Howard seemed sharper than the book-taught perceptions of Guy Staybridge. He played poker with the tenacity of one who had learned it in the hay-mow; waitresses might laugh at him, but they did walk out with him; and for all city slickers and their rules, Cal had contempt. No scolding from his father could embarrass Howard so much as Cousin Cal’s drawling, ‘You going to go society on us, are you, Big Boy, and put on the Tuxedo and play bridge whist with the old girls with the red fingernails?’

Cal started by borrowing money from Howard; it ended with Howard’s borrowing from Cal and nervously volunteering to his father that Cal was a jewel and they must never lose him.

Fred listened with no comment beyond that of his wrinkling eyebrows.

Fred was calling upon Ben Bogey, ‘Homes that are nice at lowest price’.

‘Cutting out the bunk, Mr. Bogey, how much chance do you think you’d stand of making a living if you and my son started a firm together?’

‘A living? Why, Mr. Cornplow, as sure as I’m sitting here, we’d make twenty per cent on the investment . . .’

‘Whoa-up! I asked could you two make a LIVING? In my experience, that totals a lot more than the twenty per cent that you boys seem to figure out on some kind of arithmetic different from what I studied. What real prospects you got?’

Mr. Bogey showed letters. Three firms were willing to let him handle their apartment-house rents; another firm congratulated him on ‘developing’ a cow pasture into a human pasture.

Fred mused, ‘Well, now, you take Howard, and what’s he got for you?’

‘Oh, everything, Mr. Cornplow! Simply everything! I cer’nly understand why you’re so proud of that boy. Good looks, nice voice, athletic training — gracious, how the ladies that are looking for suburban homes would fall for that fellow! And fine education and nice dependable manners — why, everything! You don’t have to tell me!’

‘As matter of fact, I WAS going to tell you a few interesting facts about him. His education is phony. He can mis-spell in three languages. He hasn’t just learned the history of the U.S. — no indeed — he’s forgotten the dates and names in the history of the whole world. But aside from all this modern education stuff, he’s unpunctual, he chatters like a monkey all day long, when he’s supposed to be reconditioning cars, he wastes material, he boasts that he’s the son of the boss, and he borrows money. Think you could do anything with him?’