d travel a few years and see the world. It will help
me considerably."

Ryder, Sr., eyed his son in silence for a few moments; then he
said gently:

"Don't be obstinate, Jeff. Listen to me. I know the world better
than you do. You mustn't go away. You are the only flesh and blood
I have."

He stopped speaking for a moment, as if overcome by a sudden
emotion over which he had no control. Jefferson remained silent,
nervously toying with a paper cutter. Seeing that his words had
made no effect, Ryder thumped his desk with his fist and cried:

"You see my weakness. You see that I want you with me, and now you
take advantage--you take advantage--"

"No, father, I don't," protested Jefferson; "but I want to go
away. Although I have my studio and am practically independent, I
want to go where I shall be perfectly free--where my every move
will not be watched--where I can meet my fellow-man heart to heart
on an equal basis, where I shall not be pointed out as the son of
Ready Money Ryder. I want to make a reputation of my own as an
artist."

"Why not study theology and become a preacher?" sneered Ryder.
Then, more amiably, he said: "No, my lad, you stay here. Study my
interests--study the interests that will be yours some day."

"No," said Jefferson doggedly, "I'd rather go--my work and my
self-respect demand it."

"Then go, damn it, go!" cried his father in a burst of anger. "I'm
a fool for wasting my time with an ungrateful son." He rose from
his seat and began to pace the room.

"Father," exclaimed Jefferson starting forward, "you do me an
injustice."

"An injustice?" echoed Mr. Ryder turning round. "Ye gods! I've
given you the biggest name in the commercial world; the most
colossal fortune ever accumulated by one man is waiting for you,
and you say I've done you an injustice!"

"Yes--we are rich," said Jefferson bitterly. "But at what a cost!
You do not go into the world and hear the sneers that I get
everywhere. You may succeed in muzzling the newspapers and
magazines, but you cannot silence public opinion. People laugh
when they hear the name Ryder--when they do not weep. All your
millions cannot purchase the world's respect. You try to throw
millions to the public as a bone to a dog, and they decline the
money on the ground that it is tainted. Doesn't that tell you what
the world thinks of your methods?"

Ryder laughed cynically. He went back to his desk, and, sitting
facing his son, he replied:

"Je