“I’m not so sure that I’d like to,” replied the eldest.

“Well, that’s straight-spoken.  What have you against it?”

“Nothing, except that I don’t know anything about it.”

“What do you know?”

The boy smiled wisely.  “Not very much, I guess.”

“Well, what are you interested in?”

“Money!”

“Aha!  What’s bred in the bone, eh?  Get something of that from your father, eh?  Well, that’s a good trait.  And spoken like a man, too!  We’ll hear more about that later.  Nancy, you’re breeding a financier here, I think.  He talks like one.”

He looked at Frank carefully now.  There was real force in that sturdy young body—­no doubt of it.  Those large, clear gray eyes were full of intelligence.  They indicated much and revealed nothing.

“A smart boy!” he said to Henry, his brother-in-law.  “I like his get-up.  You have a bright family.”

Henry Cowperwood smiled dryly.  This man, if he liked Frank, might do much for the boy.  He might eventually leave him some of his fortune.  He was wealthy and single.

Uncle Seneca became a frequent visitor to the house—­he and his negro body-guard, Manuel, who spoke both English and Spanish, much to the astonishment of the children; and he took an increasing interest in Frank.

“When that boy gets old enough to find out what he wants to do, I think I’ll help him to do it,” he observed to his sister one day; and she told him she was very grateful.  He talked to Frank about his studies, and found that he cared little for books or most of the study he was compelled to pursue.  Grammar was an abomination.  Literature silly.  Latin was of no use.  History—­well, it was fairly interesting.

“I like bookkeeping and arithmetic,” he observed.  “I want to get out and get to work, though.  That’s what I want to do.”

“You’re pretty young, my son,” observed his uncle.  “You’re only how old now?  Fourteen?”

“Thirteen.”

“Well, you can’t leave school much before sixteen.  You’ll do better if you stay until seventeen or eighteen.  It can’t do you any harm.  You won’t be a boy again.”

“I don’t want to be a boy.  I want to get to work.”

“Don’t go too fast, son.  You’ll be a man soon enough.  You want to be a banker, do you?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Well, when the time comes, if everything is all right and you’ve behaved yourself and you still want to, I’ll help you get a start in business.  If I were you and were going to be a banker, I’d first spend a year or so in some good grain and commission house.  There’s good training to be had there.  You’ll learn a lot that you ought to know.  And, meantime, keep your health and learn all you can.  Wherever I am, you let me know, and I’ll write and find out how you’ve been conducting yourself.”

He gave the boy a ten-dollar gold piece with which to start a bank-account.  And, not strange to say, he liked the whole Cowperwood household much better for this dynamic, self-sufficient, sterling youth who was an integral part of it.