tling down in Selma and marrying—or some such ridiculous thing."
Ken listened and still did not understand. He knew that Mr. Lowell owned the Lowell Block on the Camino, that he held a mortgage on the Gracey home and that he seldom resided in the sturdy white-washed Lowell mansion opposite Selma Park. He knew that Mr. Lowell was a mysterious man, a man much feared by those who owed him money—and his father owed him back interest on a mortgage.
To have been noticed by Mr. Lowell was something. That day when Mr. Lowell made a beautiful speech to the graduating class of 1922, then dropped over to visit Ken's father, would always be memorable to Ken.
"I want you to let me take your son with me to the Coast," Mr. Lowell had said. "I plan to train him to be a business associate, as I have already trained so many other boys."
Ken could not believe his ears. Yes … he wanted to leave Selma. He had been happy in Selma High. Mr. Coleman had praised him as an exemplary youth. He had been a basket-ball star. Yet he really wanted to quit Selma. What more could he do in the little Texas town? Why should he not become an associate of Mr. Lowell? Why should he not go to California?
Yet he was troubled by a persistent desire to know why Mr. Lowell had chosen him and not Lee Graham or Bill Parrott.
"How did you come to pick me out, Mr. Lowell?" he asked.
"You are a fine young animal—you are a gifted young man," Mr. Lowell replied.
