some interests together."

Dan, with his fingers interlocked behind his head, nodded carelessly. He
had grown increasingly resentful of Thatcher's tone and manner, and was
anxious to be rid of him.

"Mort's a good deal closer-mouthed than I am. Mort likes to hide his
tracks--better than that, by George, Mort doesn't _make_ any tracks!
Well, every man is bound to break a twig now and then as he goes along.
By George, I tear down the trees like an elephant so they can't miss
me!"

As Dan made no reply to this Thatcher recurred in a moment to Allen and
Harwood's annoyance passed. It was obvious that the capitalist had
sought this interview to talk of the boy, to make sure that Harwood was
sincerely interested in him. Thatcher's manner of speaking of his son
was kind and affectionate. The introduction of Bassett into the
discussion had been purely incidental, but it was not less interesting
because of its unpremeditated interjection. There was possibly some
jealousy here that would manifest itself later; but that was not Dan's
affair. Bassett was beyond doubt able to take care of himself in
emergencies; Dan's admiration for his patron was strongly intrenched in
this belief. The bulkier Thatcher, with the marks of self-indulgence
upon him, and with his bright waistcoat and flashy necktie transcending
the bounds of good taste, struck him as a weaker character. If Thatcher
meditated a break with Bassett, the sturdier qualities, the even, hard
strokes that Bassett had a reputation for delivering, would count
heavily against him.

"I'm glad you get on so well with the boy," Thatcher was saying. "I
don't mind telling you that his upbringing has been a little
unfortunate--too much damned Europe. He's terribly sore because he
didn't go to college instead of being tutored all over Europe. It's
funny he's got all these romantic ideas about America; he's sore at me
because he wasn't born poor and didn't have to chop rails to earn his
way through college and all that. The rest of my family like the money
all right; they're only sore because I didn't make it raising tulips.
But that boy's all right. And see here--" Thatcher seemed for a moment
embarrassed by what was in his mind. He fidgeted in his chair and eyed
Harwood sharply. "See here, Harwood, if you find after awhile that you
don't get on with Bassett, or you want to change, why, I want you to
give me a chance at you. I'd like to put my boy with you, somehow. I'll
die some