Alexander struggled with an impulse to ask his uncle to send him to college, but not only did pride strike at the words, but he reflected with some cynicism that the affection he inspired invariably expressed itself in blatant selfishness, and that he might better appeal to the enemies he had made to send him from the Island.  He shook his head.

“I’ll remain idle no longer,” he said.  “I’m tired of eating bread that’s given me.  I’d rather eat yours than his, but I’ve made up my mind to work.  What can you find for me now?”

“You are too obstinate to argue with in August.  Cruger wants a reliable clerk.  I heard him say so yesterday.  He’ll take you if I say the word, and give you a little something in the way of salary.”

“I like Mr. Cruger,” said Alexander, eagerly, “and so did my mother.”

“He’s a kind chap, but he’ll work you to death, for he’s always in a funk that Tom Mitchell’ll get ahead of him.  But you cannot do better.  I have no house in town, but you can ride the distance between here and Christianstadt night and morning, if my estimable brother-in-law—­whom may the gout convince of his sins—­is too much for you.”

But Alexander had no desire to return to the house where he had passed those last terrible weeks with his mother, and Mrs. Mitchell begged him on her knees to forgive the invalid, and sent him to the house in Christianstadt, where he would be alone until December; by that time, please God, Tom Mitchell would be on his way to Jamaica.  But Alexander had little further trouble with that personage.  Mr. Mitchell had his susceptibilities; he was charmed with a boy of twelve who was too proud to accept the charity of wealthy relatives and determined to make his living.  Alexander entered Mr. Cruger’s store in October.  Mr. Mitchell did not leave the Island again until the following spring, and moved to town in November.  He and Alexander discussed the prospects of rum, molasses, and sugar, the price of mahogany, of oats, cheese, bread, and flour, the various Island and American markets, until Mrs. Mitchell left the table.  Her husband proudly told his acquaintance that his nephew, Alexander Hamilton, was destined to become the cleverest merchant in the Caribbees.

VII

But Alexander had small liking for his employment.  He had as much affinity with the sordid routine of a general store and counting-house as Tom Mitchell had with the angels.  But pride and ambition carried him through most of the distasteful experiences of his life.  He would come short in nothing, and at that tender age, when his relatives were prepared to forgive his failures with good-humoured tact, he was willing to sacrifice even his books to clerical success.  He soon discovered that he had that order of mind which concentrates without effort upon what ever demands its powers,—­masters the detail of it with incredible swiftness.  At first