d
stood before Ward and spoke rather harshly: "What I am going to do is
this--? and nothing more. Neal tells me he understands shorthand: I
know the boy is industrious, and I know that he is bright and quick
and honest. That's all he needs. I am going to take him into our
company as a stockholder--with one share--a thousand-dollar share,
to be explicit; I'm going to give that to him, and that's all; then
he's to be my private secretary for three years at five thousand a
year, so long as you must know, and then at the end of that time, if
he and Jennie are so minded, they're going to marry; and if he has any
business sense--of course you know what will happen. She is all we
have, General--some one's got to take hold of things."

As Barclay spoke General Ward grew white--his face was aquiver as his
trembling voice cried out: "Oh, God, John Barclay, and would you take
my boy--my clean-hearted, fine-souled boy, whom I have taught to fear
God, and callous his soul with your damned money-making? How would you
like me to take your girl and blacken her heart and teach her the
wiles of the outcasts? And yet you're going to teach Neal to lie and
steal and cheat and make his moral guide the penal code instead of his
father's faith. Shame on you, John Barclay--shame on you, and may God
damn you for this thing, John Barclay!" The old man trembled, but the
sob that shook his frame had no tears in it. He looked Barclay in the
eyes without a tremor for an angry moment, and then broke: "I am an
old man, John; I can't interfere with Neal and Jeanette; it's their
life, not mine, and some way God will work it out; but," he added,
"I've still got my own heart to break over it--that's mine--that's
mine."

He rose and faced the younger man a moment, and then walked quickly
away. Barclay limped after him, and went home. There he sat on his
bench and made the great organ scream and howl and bellow with rage
for two hours.

When Neal Ward went to the City to live, he had a revelation of John
Barclay as a man of moods. The Barclay Neal Ward saw was an electric
motor rather than an engine. The power he had to perceive and to act
seemed transmitted to him from the outside. At times he dictated
letters of momentous importance to the young man, which Neal was sure
were improvised. Barclay relied on his instincts and rarely changed a
decision. He wore himself out every day, yet he returned to his work
the next day without a sign of fag. The young