an his father does, does he? I'll show him. He can go to the
devil now--that's where he can go."

Gorham knew better than to interrupt Sanford until his tirade was spent.
He watched him pacing up and down the room; he noted the twitching of
his features, the clenched hands, and the violent color in his face.

"You're taking chances to let yourself get worked up like this,
Stephen," he said, quietly, at length. "You and I are growing older, and
our systems won't stand what they used to."

Sanford stopped abruptly. "That's what he's counting on, the ingrate.
I've spent my whole life building up those furnaces and making money so
that he might be a gentleman. Now he throws it all over, and he thinks
I'll shuffle off in one of these spells; but I'll fix him. Not a penny
of my money shall he get--not one penny."

"How has Allen disgraced himself? Has he been stealing, or is it forgery
or murder?"

"You--you," Sanford sputtered, "you dare to suggest that my boy would
disgrace himself! You--you--"

"Sit down, Stephen, and calm yourself," Gorham laughed. "No one could
think of a less heinous crime than I have suggested, judging by your own
arraignment of the boy. How can I help you unless you tell me what has
happened?"

"I'm an old fool to let you string me so, but I'm all used up."

"And the boy has been a young fool and proved himself a chip of the old
block--how is that for a guess?"

"So you're going to take sides with him, are you?"

"How can I tell until I know the circumstances ?"

"He won't do what his father tells him," Sanford explained. "That's the
situation in a nutshell."

"Good! Now you are becoming communicative. So you've cut him off because
he won't do what you tell him?"

"Yes--the young reprobate. How he ever broke into my family is more than
I can understand."

"You're sure your way is better than his, are you, Stephen?"

"Of course I am. Aren't you?"

"I don't know what your way is any more than I know Allen's, so I can
speak without prejudice. I just wanted to be sure that you had given
both sides of the question sufficient consideration to be certain of
your position. It's a serious thing to send your own son adrift,
Stephen."

"He's my son, isn't he?"

"I judge that he has proved that."

"Would you let a son of yours lead you around by the nose?"

"No; nor would I condemn a high-strung colt to the bone-yard because I
couldn't put a bridle on him the first time I tried."

"H'm