leon carried it--to a certain
extent. However, that's neither here nor there. What is it, boy?"

Unable to remain a moment inactive, he commenced to pick among the
mass of papers on his desk, while Jefferson was thinking what to
say. The last word his father uttered gave him a cue, and he
blurted out protestingly:

"That's just it, sir. You forget that I'm no longer a boy. It's
time to treat me as if I were a man."

Ryder, Sr., leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.

"A man at twenty-eight? That's an excellent joke. Do you know that
a man doesn't get his horse sense till he's forty?"

"I want you to take me seriously," persisted Jefferson.

Ryder, Sr., was not a patient man. His moments of good humour were
of brief duration. Anything that savoured of questioning his
authority always angered him. The smile went out of his face and
he retorted explosively:

"Go on--damn it all! Be serious if you want, only don't take so
long about it. But understand one thing. I want no preaching, no
philosophical or socialistic twaddle. No Tolstoi--he's a great
thinker, and you're not. No Bernard Shaw--he's funny, and you're
not. Now go ahead."

This beginning was not very encouraging, and Jefferson felt
somewhat intimidated. But he realized that he might not have
another such opportunity, so he plunged right in.

"I should have spoken to you before if you had let me," he said.
"I often--"

"If I let you?" interrupted his father. "Do you expect me to sit
and listen patiently to your wild theories of social reform? You
asked me one day why the wages of the idle rich was wealth and the
wages of hard work was poverty, and I told you that I worked
harder in one day than a tunnel digger works in a life-time.
Thinking is a harder game than any. You must think or you won't
know. Napoleon knew more about war than all his generals put
together. I know more about money than any man living to-day. The
man who knows is the man who wins. The man who takes advice isn't
fit to give it. That's why I never take yours. Come, don't be a
fool, Jeff--give up this art nonsense. Come back to the Trading
Company. I'll make you vice-president, and I'll teach you the
business of making millions."

Jefferson shook his head. It was hard to have to tell his own
father that he did not think the million-making business quite a
respectable one, so he only murmured:

"It's impossible, father. I am devoted to my work. I even intend
to go away an