"Look at the leaves, John," said Rivers. "What fleets of red and gold!"
"I wonder," said John, "how far they will drift, and if any of them will
ever float to the sea. It is a long way."
"Yes," returned Rivers, "and so we too are drifting."
"Oh, no, sir," said John, with the confidence of youth, "we are not
drifting, we are sailing--not just like the leaves anywhere the waves
take them."
"More or less," added Rivers moodily, "more or less."
He looked at the boy as he spoke, conscious of a nature unlike his own.
Then he laughed outright. "You may be sure we are a good deal hustled by
circumstances--like the leaves."
"I should prefer to hustle circumstances," replied John gaily, and again
the rector studied the young face and wondered what life had in store for
this resolute nature.
"Come, let us go. I have walked too far for me, I am overtired, John."
What it felt to be overtired, John hardly knew. He said, "I know a short
cut, cater-cornered across the new clearing."
As they walked homeward, Rivers said, "What do you want to do, John? You
are more than fit for the university--you should be thinking about it."
"I do not know."
"Would you like to be a clergyman?"
"No," said John decisively.
"Or a lawyer, or a doctor like Tom McGregor?"
"I do not know--I have not thought about it much, but I might like to go
to West Point.
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