o decided, in order to save his face, to indulge in
humorous speech.
"Young man," he asked, with a show of solicitude, "do you expect to
become Governor of New York?"
But Hendrik was not in a smiling mood, because he was listening to a
speech he was making to himself, and his own applause was distinctly
enjoyable, besides preventing him from hearing what the other was
saying. That is what makes all applause dangerous. He went on, with an
effect of not having been interrupted.
"Machines never mutiny. They, therefore, are desirable in your System.
At the same time, the end of all machines is the scrap-heap. Do _you_
expect to end in junk?"
"I was not thinking of _my_ finish," the president said, with much
politeness.
"Yes, you are. Shall I prove it?"
"Not now, please," pleaded the president, with a look of exaggerated
anxiety at the clock. It brought a flush of anger to Hendrik's cheeks,
seeing which the president instantly felt that glow of happiness which
comes from gratified revenge. Ah, to be witty! But his smile vanished.
Hendrik, his fists clenched, was advancing. The president was no true
humorist, not being of the stuff of which martyrs are made. He was ready
to recant when,
"Good morning, daddy," came in a musical voice.
Hendrik drew in his breath sharply at the narrowness of his escape. She
who approached the purple-faced tyrant was the most beautiful girl in
all the round world.
It was spring. The girl had brought in the first blossoms of the season
on her cheeks, and she had captured the sky and permanently imprisoned
it in her eyes. She was more than beautiful; she was everything that
Hendrik Rutgers had ever desired, and even more!
"Er--good morning, Mr.--ah--" began the president in a pleasant voice.
Hendrik waved his hand at him with the familiar amiability we use toward
people whose political affiliations are the same as ours at
election-time. Then he turned toward the girl, looked at her straight in
the eyes for a full minute before he said, with impressive gravity:
"Miss Goodchild, your father and I have failed to agree in a somewhat
important business matter. I do not think he has used very good
judgment, but I leave this office full of forgiveness toward him because
I have lived to see his daughter at close range, in the broad light of
day."
The only woman before whom a man dares to show himself a physical coward
is his wife, because no matter what he does she knows him.
|