Robert Keane, when they had gone a hundred yards in silence.
"Yes, sir," answered Tom, wishing to say a great deal more, but
unable to utter more than two words.
"What would you say to go back to Philadelphia, and let me look after
your training?"
"O Mr. Keane!" Tom stood still on the ice and lifted incredulous eyes
to his companion's face. There was a smile there, but the eyes were
sincere enough.
"I see you would like it. Don't stand; we can talk while we go. Well,
my boy, there is a great deal of hard work, patient plodding,
uninteresting study to be gone through, and as many failures and
tumbles as days in the year, before you reach even the first step of
the ladder. Do you think you could go through it?"
"I would go through anything, Mr. Keane, and toil for twenty years,
if need be, only to be allowed to work at it. Do you know, it is life
to me even to think of it."
Robert Keane glanced curiously at the lad. His face was kindling with
emotion, and his eyes shone like stars.
"All right, my boy; you're the right stuff, I see. Leave it with me;
I'll fix it right enough. And you'll go to Philadelphia as sure as my
name's Keane. No need to thank me. Let your future success be my
reward, if I need any. Let us try a race back; you're a splendid
skater.
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