er, and advise him to guard against that greatest
weakness which his father possesses. Tell him you want him to go into
the diplomatic service for a time to gratify your ambition for him, but
that if, after the trial, he prefers business you will stand right back
of him and get him started. Tell him, as you have just told me, that he
is all you have, and that he must make certain sacrifices for your sake,
that he must bear with your weaknesses and profit by your points of
strength. But, above all, make him feel that you believe in him, that
you're proud of him, and that you've been a fool to make such a
humiliating exhibition before him as you did this afternoon."
The gathering storm in Stephen Sanford's face did not deter Gorham from
finishing his remarks. He knew that his old friend had seldom, if ever,
had the truth spoken to him as unreservedly as now; but he had been
asked for his advice, and he proposed to give it.
"You--you--" Sanford choked in his rage. "So that's what you think of
me, is it? It's worth something to know that. Knuckle down to that young
cub and have him putting it over me for the rest of my life? What do you
take me for? I'll see him starve first. Why should you undertake to
advise me about my boy--"
"Chiefly because you asked it, Stephen."
"Well, I don't ask for it any more. With all your experience you're not
competent--"
"Should I have shown greater competency if my advice had agreed with
your own ideas?"
"Don't try to juggle with words, Robert. It's all off between the boy
and me, understand. I'll paddle my canoe and he can paddle his. When
he's ready to use my stroke he knows where my landing is. And now
good-day to you. 'Bear with my weaknesses, eh?' 'Humiliating
exhibition.' Good-day, I say." And without giving Gorham the opportunity
to do so he flung open the door and stamped out into the corridor to the
elevator, his cane keeping time with the tumult of thoughts which surged
through his brain.
Gorham watched the unyielding back of his friend until he turned the
corner, then he closed the door.
"Poor old Stephen," he sighed to himself. "If I had only been blessed
with that boy."
IX
Allen had ample opportunity to act the part of the hydra. When his
father left him after their stormy interview the boy utterly failed to
realize the seriousness of the situation. The "pater" had been angry
with him before,--if the truth be told, he was usually angry with
him,--
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