Kilmeny of the Orchard | Page 3

too many good

honest men of business, ready to do clean big things for the betterment
of humanity and the upbuilding of their country, to plan great
enterprises and carry them through with brain and courage, to manage
and control, to aim high and strike one's aim. There, I'm waxing
eloquent, so I'd better stop. But ambition, man! Why, I'm full of it--it's
bubbling in every pore of me. I mean to make the department store of
Marshall & Company famous from ocean to ocean. Father started in
life as a poor boy from a Nova Scotian farm. He has built up a business
that has a provincial reputation. I mean to carry it on. In five years it
shall have a maritime reputation, in ten, a Canadian. I want to make the
firm of Marshall & Company stand for something big in the
commercial interests of Canada. Isn't that as honourable an ambition as
trying to make black seem white in a court of law, or discovering some
new disease with a harrowing name to torment poor creatures who
might otherwise die peacefully in blissful ignorance of what ailed
them?"
"When you begin to make poor jokes it is time to stop arguing with
you," said David, with a shrug of his fat shoulders. "Go your own gait
and dree your own weird. I'd as soon expect success in trying to storm
the citadel single-handed as in trying to turn you from any course about
which you had once made up your mind. Whew, this street takes it out
of a fellow! What could have possessed our ancestors to run a town up
the side of a hill? I'm not so slim and active as I was on MY graduation
day ten years ago. By the way, what a lot of co-eds were in your
class--twenty, if I counted right. When I graduated there were only two
ladies in our class and they were the pioneers of their sex at Queenslea.
They were well past their first youth, very grim and angular and serious;
and they could never have been on speaking terms with a mirror in their
best days. But mark you, they were excellent females--oh, very
excellent. Times have changed with a vengeance, judging from the
line-up of co-eds to-day. There was one girl there who can't be a day
over eighteen--and she looked as if she were made out of gold and
roseleaves and dewdrops."
"The oracle speaks in poetry," laughed Eric. "That was Florence
Percival, who led the class in mathematics, as I'm a living man. By
many she is considered the beauty of her class. I can't say that such is
my opinion. I don't greatly care for that blonde, babyish style of

loveliness--I prefer Agnes Campion. Did you notice her--the tall, dark
girl with the ropes of hair and a sort of crimson, velvety bloom on her
face, who took honours in philosophy?"
"I DID notice her," said David emphatically, darting a keen side glance
at his friend. "I noticed her most particularly and critically--for
someone whispered her name behind me and coupled it with the
exceedingly interesting information that Miss Campion was supposed
to be the future Mrs. Eric Marshall. Whereupon I stared at her with all
my eyes."
"There is no truth in that report," said Eric in a tone of annoyance.
"Agnes and I are the best of friends and nothing more. I like and admire
her more than any woman I know; but if the future Mrs. Eric Marshall
exists in the flesh I haven't met her yet. I haven't even started out to
look for her--and don't intend to for some years to come. I have
something else to think of," he concluded, in a tone of contempt, for
which anyone might have known he would be punished sometime if
Cupid were not deaf as well as blind.
"You'll meet the lady of the future some day," said David dryly. "And
in spite of your scorn I venture to predict that if fate doesn't bring her
before long you'll very soon start out to look for her. A word of advice,
oh, son of your mother. When you go courting take your common sense
with you."
"Do you think I shall be likely to leave it behind?" asked Eric
amusedly.
"Well, I mistrust you," said David, sagely wagging his head. "The
Lowland Scotch part of you is all right, but there's a Celtic streak in
you, from that little Highland grandmother of yours, and when a man
has that there's never any knowing where it will break out, or what
dance it will lead him, especially when it comes to this love-making
business. You are just as likely as not to lose your head over some little
fool or shrew