So
unusual, however, had been his treatment of this well-worn subject as to
call forth more than a little comment from even the most conservative of
critics. The Brush and Pen had hastened to confer upon him an honorary
membership. Cadmon, magic weaver of Indian music, had written a warm
letter of appreciation. And, most precious tribute of all, the Atlantic
Monthly had become interested in his career.
To be sure, it was nothing more than might have been expected of a man
whose undergraduate work in English had aroused the reluctant wonder of
more than one instructor. Nevertheless, the fact that he pulled stroke
on the 'varsity crew had somewhat blinded other contemporaries to his
more scholarly attainments. Nor had anyone thought it probable, because
of his father's wealth, that Blair, in any event, would feel called upon
to do much more than make a frolic of life. No one, indeed, had been
more taken aback than had his father to find him, a year after
graduation, drudging over the assistant editor's desk of a struggling
magazine the payroll of which, to put it mildly, offered no financial
inducements.
"It's good practice for me, though, - quickest way to learn," was all he
vouchsafed when the older man remonstrated.
Yet, had that same father, shrewd capitalist that he was, but taken the
trouble to reason back from premises evident enough, he might have been
the first to realize that this tall son of his, with the keen gray eyes
and a face the strength of which was but increased by the high cheek
bones and squarely molded chin, was scarcely the type of man to sit idly
by enjoying the fruits of another's labor.
Pages:
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62