The Yale expositor. (Yale, St. Clair County, Mich.) 1894-current, 1912-09-26

| iduSnSu, DuC inc pretty girls SnlS-
gered. Many a time he had returned
to his dormitory decorated mot in
accord with the fond hopes Of his
mother) with swollen ear, or a
rudy proboscis, or green-brown
eye. There was limit, and when
they stepped over that, why, he pro-
ceeded to the best of his ability to
solve the difficulty with his fists.
George was no milksop; but Percival
Algernon would have been the Old
Man Of the Sea on broader shoulders
than his. He dimly realized that had
he been named George Henry William
Jones his sun would have been many
diameters larger. There was a splen-
did quality Of pluck under his appar.
! ent timidity, and he stuck doggedly
to II. He never wrote home and COM
planned. What was good enough for
! his mother was good enough for him.
1t seemed just an ordinary matter
OF routine for him to pick up French
and German verbs. He was far from
being brilliant, but he was sensitive
and his memory was sound. Since
his mothers ambition was to see him
an accomplished linguist, he applied
himself 10 the task as il everything
in the world depended upon it, just
as he knew that when the time came
he would apply himself as thoroughly
to the question of rugs and carpets.
Under all this filial loyalty ran the
pure strain of golden romance. side
by side with the lesser metal of prac-
ticality. When he began to read the
masters he preferred their romances
TO their novels. He even wrote poetry
in secret, and when his mother discov-
cred the fact she cried over the senti-
mental verses. The father had to be
told, He laughed and declared that
the boy would some day develop into
a good writer of advertisements. This
quiet laughter, unburdened as it was
with ridicule, was enough to set
Georges muse a-winging, and she
never came back.
After leaving college he was given
a modest letter of credit and told to
go where he pleased for whole year.
George started out at once in quest
Of the Holy Grail and there are more
roads 10 that than there are to Rome.
One may be reasonably sure of get
ting into Rome, whereas the Holy
Grail diversified. variable, innumer-
able) is always the exact sum of
bunch of hay hanging before old Dob
bins nose. Nevertheless, George gal
loped his fancies with loose rein. He
haunted romance, burrowed and
plowed for it; and never his spade
changed unsteady against the hidden
treasure, never forlorn beauty in
distress, not so much as chapter one
of the Golden Book offered it's daz-
cling first page. George lost some con-
fidence.
Two or three times a woman looked
into the young mans mind and in his
guilelessness they effected sundry
holes in his letter Of credit. but left
his soul singularly untouched. The
red corpuscle, his fathers gift, though
it lay dormant, subconsciously erected
barriers. He was innocent. but he was
no fool. That one year taught him
the lesson, rather cheaply, too. II
there was any romance in life. it came
unlimited, and IL courted and sought
was as quick on the wing as that erst-
while poesy must.
The year passed, and while he had
not wholly given up the quest, the
practical George agreed with the ro-
mantle Percival to shelve 1t indef1-
nitely. He returned to New York
with thirty-two pounds sterling out of
the original thousand, fact that reju-
venated his paternal parent by some
ten years.
Jane. that boy is all right. Perci.
val Algernon could not kill boy like
that"
do you mean to infer that 1t ever
could ?" Sometimes qualm wrlnkled
her conscience. Her mothers heart
told her that her son ought not to be
shy and bashful, that It was not In
the nature of his blood to suspect
ridicule where there was none. Per-
haps she had handicapped him with
those names; but It was too late now
to admit of this, and useless, since |
1t would not have remedied the evil. |
Jones hemmed and hawed for a
space NO" he answered; but |
was afraid he might try to live up |
to It; and no Perclval Algernon who |
lived up to 1t could put his nose down |
to a Shah Abbas and tell how many |
knots it had to the square inch. I'll |
start him in on the job tomorrow"
Whereupon the mother sat back
dreamily. Now, where was the girl |
worthy OF her boy? Monumental ques.
ton, besetting every mother, from Eve
down, Eve, whose trials in this direc-
ton must have been heartrending!
George left the cellar in due time.
and after that he went up the ladder
in bounds, on his own merit, mind
you, for his father never stirred a
hand to boost him. He took the In.
terest In rugs that turns buyer into
a collector; II became fascinating
pleasure rather than business. He
became invaluable to the house. and