"No; nor would I condemn a high-strung colt to the bone-yard because I couldn't put a bridle on him the first time I tried."

"H'm!" Sanford e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "It's the women who don't have children who always attend 'mothers' meetings.' Of course you know just how to handle a son."

"If you hadn't thought I had some ideas, I don't suppose I should have had the pleasure of this interview."

"Then you think he ought to be allowed to go into business?"

"This proposition seems now to have become of secondary importance. The main issue is whether or not a boy twenty-three years old is to be allowed to express his ideas when they differ from his father's. Allen, apparently, has settled the matter without any advice from either of us."

"You don't know what that boy is to me." Sanford's voice broke a little in spite of him.

"I can imagine," Gorham replied, feelingly. "I know what he would be to me if he were mine."

"He's all I have in the world, Robert. I've had to be father and mother to him. I've given him the best education money could buy, I've sent him to Europe to get that foreign finish every one talks about; and now he won't do what my heart is set on."

"If the boy wants to go into business, why don't you make a place for him in your own concern? That's where he ought to be--to take the responsibilities off your shoulders, one by one, and to continue your name."

"Put Allen in my furnaces?" Sanford demanded, his choleric att.i.tude beginning to return. "How can you make a gentleman in my furnaces? Do you suppose I'd buy a twenty-thousand-dollar painting and hang it up in the cellar? No, sir; I mean to make something out of that boy better than his father is, and that isn't the place to do it. But in the diplomatic service they're all gentlemen--that's why I want to put him there."

"And if you can't have your own way you prefer to lose the boy altogether?"

"Oh, he'll come back, the young cub. He'll see which side his bread is b.u.t.tered on. It'll be a long time before he can earn the five hundred a month I give him for an allowance, and he knows it. He'll be back."

"I'm not so sure," Gorham said, seriously.

"You don't think--" Sanford began, showing signs of alarm.

"Would you in his place?"

"That's nothing to do with it; he's only a boy."

"Did you--in his place?"

Sanford looked up quickly. "I had more cause," he replied. "My father was unreasonable; his isn't."

"Allen's ideas on that subject may differ from yours. Now, if you want my advice, here it is: Go back to that boy. Tell him you're ashamed to have lost your temper, and advise him to guard against that greatest weakness which his father possesses. Tell him you want him to go into the diplomatic service for a time to gratify your ambition for him, but that if, after the trial, he prefers business you will stand right back of him and get him started. Tell him, as you have just told me, that he is all you have, and that he must make certain sacrifices for your sake, that he must bear with your weaknesses and profit by your points of strength. But, above all, make him feel that you believe in him, that you're proud of him, and that you've been a fool to make such a humiliating exhibition before him as you did this afternoon."

The gathering storm in Stephen Sanford's face did not deter Gorham from finishing his remarks. He knew that his old friend had seldom, if ever, had the truth spoken to him as unreservedly as now; but he had been asked for his advice, and he proposed to give it.

"You--you--" Sanford choked in his rage. "So that's what you think of me, is it? It's worth something to know that. Knuckle down to that young cub and have him putting it over me for the rest of my life? What do you take me for? I'll see him starve first. Why should you undertake to advise me about my boy--"

"Chiefly because you asked it, Stephen."

"Well, I don't ask for it any more. With all your experience you're not competent--"

"Should I have shown greater competency if my advice had agreed with your own ideas?"

"Don't try to juggle with words, Robert. It's all off between the boy and me, understand. I'll paddle my canoe and he can paddle his. When he's ready to use my stroke he knows where my landing is. And now good-day to you. 'Bear with my weaknesses, eh?' 'Humiliating exhibition.' Good-day, I say." And without giving Gorham the opportunity to do so he flung open the door and stamped out into the corridor to the elevator, his cane keeping time with the tumult of thoughts which surged through his brain.

Gorham watched the unyielding back of his friend until he turned the corner, then he closed the door.

"Poor old Stephen," he sighed to himself. "If I had only been blessed with that boy."

IX

Allen had ample opportunity to act the part of the hydra. When his father left him after their stormy interview the boy utterly failed to realize the seriousness of the situation. The "pater" had been angry with him before,--if the truth be told, he was usually angry with him,--so the fact that the altercation this time had been more severe than usual was a matter simply of degree. The cutting off of his allowance was a tangible evidence that his father was more than ordinarily angry; but, on the other hand, Allen felt himself to be the aggrieved party, and in a virtuous burst of righteousness he declared to himself that he "didn't want the pater's money, anyway." He considered it fortunate that it was still early in the month, and it did not occur to him to consider the rather handsome balance he still possessed as too tainted to retain; but as he looked at it the upshot of the whole matter was that now he would be forced to go into business at once--and this was his strongest desire since he had met Alice. So Allen "hiked it" to New York, and spent a fortnight seeking out the opening which should best offer him the opportunity to become a captain of industry with the least possible delay.

In the mean time, Covington had returned to Washington to a.s.sist Gorham in putting through a government contract for the building of the new battleships just authorized by Congress. He found his chief gratified by the continued advance of the Companies' interests, but still more impressed by the personal responsibility which this success entailed.

"I repeated the cable from Brazil to you by wire," Covington remarked.

"Yes; the Consolidated Companies now controls the coffee output of the world. With the economies which we can introduce in production and handling there will be a saving of about twelve millions a year."

"That will be a handsome addition to the dividends already a.s.sured the stockholders," Covington observed.

"Only a drop in the bucket compared with what is to come," Gorham a.s.sured him. "The people can now save six millions a year on their breakfast cup of coffee, while the Consolidated Companies may conscientiously drop the other six into its own cup by way of sweetening."

"You don't really mean that you are going to throw away all that profit?" was the incredulous inquiry.

"I'm not going to 'throw away' any of it."

"I know," Covington said, quickly; "but six millions is a large sum of money, and one million given to the public by way of lower prices, if properly advertised, would accomplish the purpose just as well."

Gorham looked at him critically. "You're not serious, are you?"

"As serious as you are." Covington smiled understandingly. "This is man to man now, you know; that other talk is a great card for the Companies, as you give it. Of course it isn't necessary to give away so large a share of the savings."

"Not necessary, but just and--good business," replied Gorham. "This is where you and I and the others in the Companies can reap our richest dividends: we can take the tremendous profits which we are receiving with the gratifying knowledge that every dollar we get is clean, and represents an equal sum saved to the people. No one of us has made an unfair penny out of the promotion; no one of us has improperly used the information which has come to him while negotiating our consolidations; there is no act of ours, individually or officially, which will not stand the fullest publicity. What other corporation can make that boast, Covington? The most baneful influence which corporate power conveys is that it blinds the eyes of those possessing it to all except their own single, selfish purpose; that it dulls their hearts so that every beat takes them farther away from humanity, and that it hardens their hands until they can feel nothing but the gold which they clasp to their b.r.e.a.s.t.s. They have thrived upon special privilege just as we are thriving, but see the difference. In our hands this weapon, which has previously been turned against the ma.s.ses, is being made an advantage to them and not a menace, and yet a profitable enterprise for those who wield it. I tell you, Covington, when this double purpose can no longer be served, the Consolidated Companies must cease to exist."

"Splendid!" exclaimed his listener, with undisguised admiration. "This is the first time I have personally had the opportunity of listening to that irresistible appeal which has given the Companies the most remarkable list of stockholders in the world. But tell me--how much of that saving are you really going to give back to the public?"

"Your jest is ill timed," Gorham replied, sternly. "I do not choose to have even you make light of so serious a subject. Let us have no more of it."

Covington retreated behind the inexpressive barrier of his superbly controlled features, but the coldness of his eyes showed his resentment.

"As you wish, Mr. Gorham," he replied, as they separated, and he directed his steps toward the hotel.

"Does he think me a fool?" he said, petulantly, to himself. "Why should he always hold himself above the rest of us? I'm working for the Companies just as he is, and there is no reason why he should try that bluff with me. 'When this double purpose can no longer be served the Consolidated Companies must cease to exist.' Bah! I can see the shearing ahead of us as well as he can, and he won't gain anything by trying to a.s.sume the role of the Almighty, leaving us to be the wicked partners."

He showed no evidences of his ruffled feelings when he reached the hotel. Alice was expecting him, but she was in ignorance as to the nature of his errand.

"We are to have our first lesson this morning," he announced.

"First lesson in what?" was the surprised inquiry.