Boy," said the old man at last, "in five years, how would you like a job selling...

Boy," said the old man at last, "in five years, how would you like a job selling shoes in this emporium?"
"Gosh, thanks, Mr. Sanderson, but I don't know what I'm going to be yet."
"Anything you want to be son," said the old man, "you'll be. No one will ever stop you.