Chapter 6

"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!" Sanford ejaculated. "It's the women who don't have children who always attend 'mothers' meetings.' Of course you know just how to handle a son."

"If you hadn't thought I had some ideas, I don't suppose I should have had the pleasure of this interview."

"Then you think he ought to be allowed to go into business?"

"This proposition seems now to have become of secondary importance. The main issue is whether or not a boy twenty-three years old is to be allowed to express his ideas when they differ from his father's. Allen, apparently, has settled the matter without any advice from either of us."

"You don't know what that boy is to me." Sanford's voice broke a little in spite of him.

"I can imagine," Gorham replied, feelingly. "I know what he would be to me if he were mine."

"He's all I have in the world, Robert. I've had to be father and mother to him. I've given him the best education money could buy, I've sent him to Europe to get that foreign finish every one talks about; and now he won't do what my heart is set on."

"If the boy wants to go into business, why don't you make a place for him in your own concern? That's where he ought to be--to take the responsibilities off your shoulders, one by one, and to continue your name."

"Put Allen in my furnaces?" Sanford demanded, his choleric attitude beginning to return. "How can you make a gentleman in my furnaces? Do you suppose I'd buy a twenty-thousand-dollar painting and hang it up in the cellar? No, sir; I mean to make something out of that boy better than his father is, and that isn't the place to do it. But in the diplomatic service they're all gentlemen--that's why I want to put him there."

"And if you can't have your own way you prefer to lose the boy altogether?"

"Oh, he'll come back, the young cub. He'll see which side his bread is buttered on. It'll be a long time before he can earn the five hundred a month I give him for an allowance, and he knows it. He'll be back."

"I'm not so sure," Gorham said, seriously.

"You don't think--" Sanford began, showing signs of alarm.

"Would you in his place?"

"That's nothing to do with it; he's only a boy."

"Did you--in his place?"

Sanford looked up quickly. "I had more cause," he replied. "My father was unreasonable; his isn't."

"Allen's ideas on that subject may differ from yours. Now, if you want my advice, here it is: Go back to that boy. Tell him you're ashamed to have lost your temper, 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,--so the fact that the altercation this time had been more severe than usual was a matter simply of degree. The cutting off of his allowance was a tangible evidence that his father was more than ordinarily angry; but, on the other hand, Allen felt himself to be the aggrieved party, and in a virtuous burst of righteousness he declared to himself that he "didn't want the pater's money, anyway." He considered it fortunate that it was still early in the month, and it did not occur to him to consider the rather handsome balance he still possessed as too tainted to retain; but as he looked at it the upshot of the whole matter was that now he would be forced to go into business at once--and this was his strongest desire since he had met Alice. So Allen "hiked it" to New York, and spent a fortnight seeking out the opening which should best offer him the opportunity to become a captain of industry with the least possible delay.

In the mean time, Covington had returned to Washington to assist Gorham in putting through a government contract for the building of the new battleships just authorized by Congress. He found his chief gratified by the continued advance of the Companies' interests, but still more impressed by the personal responsibility which this success entailed.

"I repeated the cable from Brazil to you by wire," Covington remarked.

"Yes; the Consolidated Companies now controls the coffee output of the world. With the economies which we can introduce in production and handling there will be a saving of about twelve millions a year."

"That will be a handsome addition to the dividends already assured the stockholders," Covington observed.

"Only a drop in the bucket compared with what is to come," Gorham assured him. "The people can now save six millions a year on their breakfast cup of coffee, while the Consolidated Companies may conscientiously drop the other six into its own cup by way of sweetening."

"You don't really mean that you are going to throw away all that profit?" was the incredulous inquiry.

"I'm not going to 'throw away' any of it."

"I know," Covington said, quickly; "but six millions is a large sum of money, and one million given to the public by way of lower prices, if properly advertised, would accomplish the purpose just as well."

Gorham looked at him critically. "You're not serious, are you?"

"As serious as you are." Covington smiled understandingly. "This is man to man now, you know; that other talk is a great card for the Companies, as you give it. Of course it isn't necessary to give away so large a share of the savings."

"Not necessary, but just and--good business," replied Gorham. "This is where you and I and the others in the Companies can reap our richest dividends: we can take the tremendous profits which we are receiving with the gratifying knowledge that every dollar we get is clean, and represents an equal sum saved to the people. No one of us has made an unfair penny out of the promotion; no one of us has improperly used the information which has come to him while negotiating our consolidations; there is no act of ours, individually or officially, which will not stand the fullest publicity. What other corporation can make that boast, Covington? The most baneful influence which corporate power conveys is that it blinds the eyes of those possessing it to all except their own single, selfish purpose; that it dulls their hearts so that every beat takes them farther away from humanity, and that it hardens their hands until they can feel nothing but the gold which they clasp to their breasts. They have thrived upon special privilege just as we are thriving, but see the difference. In our hands this weapon, which has previously been turned against the masses, is being made an advantage to them and not a menace, and yet a profitable enterprise for those who wield it. I tell you, Covington, when this double purpose can no longer be served, the Consolidated Companies must cease to exist."

"Splendid!" exclaimed his listener, with undisguised admiration. "This is the first time I have personally had the opportunity of listening to that irresistible appeal which has given the Companies the most remarkable list of stockholders in the world. But tell me--how much of that saving are you really going to give back to the public?"

"Your jest is ill timed," Gorham replied, sternly. "I do not choose to have even you make light of so serious a subject. Let us have no more of it."

Covington retreated behind the inexpressive barrier of his superbly controlled features, but the coldness of his eyes showed his resentment.

"As you wish, Mr. Gorham," he replied, as they separated, and he directed his steps toward the hotel.

"Does he think me a fool?" he said, petulantly, to himself. "Why should he always hold himself above the rest of us? I'm working for the Companies just as he is, and there is no reason why he should try that bluff with me. 'When this double purpose can no longer be served the Consolidated Companies must cease to exist.' Bah! I can see the shearing ahead of us as well as he can, and he won't gain anything by trying to assume the role of the Almighty, leaving us to be the wicked partners."

He showed no evidences of his ruffled feelings when he reached the hotel. Alice was expecting him, but she was in ignorance as to the nature of his errand.

"We are to have our first lesson this morning," he announced.

"First lesson in what?" was the surprised inquiry.

"In business and finance," Covington enlightened her, smiling. "Your father has given me the privilege of helping you manage your first business enterprise. A part of one of the concerns recently assimilated by the Consolidated Companies is a prosperous mail-order department which we intend to continue, for a time at least. Your father's instructions are that all the mail shall be brought to you each morning by a stenographer, who will receive your dictation and bring the letters back to you in the afternoon for your approval and signature. For a time I will give you such advice as you need, and later you will have matters entirely in your own hands as long as you wish to remain manager of the department. How do you like the idea?"

"It is perfectly splendid," Alice cried, her eyes sparkling. "When am I to begin ?"

"I will explain some of the details to you now," Covington answered, drawing a package of papers from his pocket. "You must make yourself perfectly familiar with these, and we will take the business up seriously when you return to New York."

"Why did father do this?" the girl demanded, suddenly.

Covington was surprised. "Isn't it something you wanted?" he asked.

"More than anything else in the world, but father never seemed to realize it. If I can only do something to help, and feel myself accomplishing no matter how little, I shall be the happiest girl in the world."

"Others who are not so wholly engrossed have seen what you wanted, Miss Alice. Perhaps you have them to thank in part."

"I do thank you, Mr. Covington, and it is good of you to take all this trouble to teach me how to do it," she said, gratefully. "I know how valuable your time is, and how much it must interfere with your work to gratify this desire of mine which probably seems foolish to you all."

"Such an experience is of value to any girl, but especially to you who are in the dangerous position of being threatened with large interests to look after; and as for me, I shall consider this as one of the pleasantest of my daily duties."

"You and father are so good to me." Alice held out her hand impulsively, after grasping which Covington spread out the papers on the table preparatory to the first lesson. The girl watched him, all eagerness, then suddenly she laughed aloud and clapped her hands.

"Won't Allen be surprised when he hears that I've gotten my position before he has his?"

"Allen?" queried Covington, looking up from his papers.

"Yes, Allen Sanford. Do you know him, Mr. Covington? He's a friend of mine and I'm very much interested in him." Then she paused and her face sobered. "Perhaps I ought to let him have this chance," she mused. "He offered to share his chances with me."

"Do you mean Stephen Sanford's son?"

"Yes. Do you know him?"

Covington smiled, and for some unexplainable reason the girl did not like his smile.

"We could hardly accept the substitution, Miss Alice. I understand that the boy is erratic and irresponsible. His father has just disinherited him."

"You don't mean it!" Alice cried, really concerned over this first news of the result of Allen's interview with his father. "That must have been yesterday. I wonder why daddy didn't tell me."

"Your father's mind is pretty full with his own affairs, Miss Alice, without taking up Mr. Sanford's."

"But I must see Allen and help him--he will need my inspiration now more than ever."

"Shall we begin on our first lesson?" Covington asked, watching the girl carefully.

"Please do," she said. "I wonder if woman's part is to give inspiration even after she is the manager of a business," she said aloud, but to herself rather than to her companion.

"It is always woman's part to give inspiration," assented Covington.

"I must ask Eleanor," the girl said. "Please show me the papers, Mr. Covington," she continued, turning to him with her mind at last centred on the new proposition. "Your pupil is all attention."

* * * * *

Alice saw Allen just before he left for New York and also immediately after his return, and the two interviews were interesting in their diversity. In the first, Allen made light of the trouble between his father and himself, and was so filled with confidence as to the results of his approaching visit to the metropolis that the girl's anxiety was much relieved.

"The pater is all right, Alice," he said; "he just doesn't understand me, that's all. He's done everything in the world for me and I'm more grateful than he realizes; but I can't let him keep tying on my bib, can I? Now I've got to show him that I'm a man too, and then he'll come around all right. I'm going over to New York to-night and I'll tell you all about it when I come back. I'm not afraid of being turned down. You're a girl and you'd be mortified to death if any one turned you down, but with us men it's different. You remember what I told your father--and I meant it. Watch me do the hydra act until I get located, and then--well, then I'll start a branch mail-order department and push you off the map, Miss--Manager."

When he returned Alice welcomed him full of anticipation.

"What have you gone into?" she demanded.

The boy's eyes fell as they met hers. "Well"--he hesitated--"I haven't gone into anything. I guess Mrs. Gorham is right about New York being a hard place to get started in, and I can't exactly claim to be a 'finished product' yet, can I? You see, they all knew I was Stephen Sanford's son, and they were as nice to me as could be. They asked me up to dinner, and then I knew it was all off for getting a job. The heads of big concerns don't ask their office-boys to their homes to meet their families, you know. But I'm not a bit discouraged. I'm going to find something if I have to tear a hole in the road chasing it."

A few evenings later Allen called again upon the Gorhams. It would have been apparent even to those less observant than Alice and Eleanor that something had happened, for the boy's face glowed with suppressed excitement.

"I think I've found a job," he announced, scarcely waiting for the formality of greetings. "I'm not sure, but I want to talk it over with you."

"What is it, Allen?" cried Alice, expectantly.

"It's a whole lot better than it sounds, I'm sure. I'm afraid you'll laugh when I tell you. It's selling books."

"A book agent!" Mrs. Gorham exclaimed.

"There! that's just what I was afraid of." Allen's expression showed mingled distress and despair. "It really looks like a corking good chance, yet it's a ten to one shot that I'll be laughed out of taking it before I begin."

"Don't mind what I said." Mrs. Gorham hastened to atone for her involuntary exclamation. "I suppose it can be a perfectly honorable occupation, but I can't help thinking of some of the experiences my friends have had. Tell us all about it."

"Eleanor and I would be the last ones to discourage you," Alice added. "I think it's fine that you have gotten as far as this."

Allen's drooping spirits revived at once, and he beamed at Alice gratefully.

"I've simply got to get more experience," he said, emphatically. "Mr. Gorham told me that most of the best companies have no time to develop their own material, and I've made up my mind definitely that I'm going to do my own developing right now; and when I've polished up the material until I can see my face in it, I'll apply again to Mr. President, and say, 'Here I am, all developed--now will you give me a job?'"

"Splendid !" cried Alice, clapping her hands. "Now tell us what you've found. Where is the book-shop?"

"It isn't in a book-shop at all," Allen replied, his assurance again beginning to wane. "It's just what Mrs. Gorham called it."

"Oh," the girl remarked--"going around from house to house?"

Allen nodded his head. "But think of the experience I'll get, Alice," he insisted. "The directions say, 'If the man of the house is at home make some excuse and call again'; but with my usual luck he's sure to see me first, and then I'll go out on three legs. I suspect the material will get polished all right. But the talk that man gave me to learn is certainly straight from Persuasionville. Honestly, I'm tempted to buy a set of the books myself--only tempted, mind you; and so far I've resisted. I'd like mighty well to try it on you before I take any chances."

Alice and Mrs. Gorham exchanged glances as Allen busied himself untying a small package he had brought with him. In the girl's face there was deep concern, but Eleanor found it difficult to conceal her amusement.

"There!" said Allen, triumphantly producing a thin booklet. "Here is the brochure, as they call it, and here are the rules of the game. You take the instructions, Mrs. Gorham, and correct me if I go wrong, and I'll try to sell a set to Alice."

The boy endeavored to cover his consciousness with a broad grin.

"Isn't this great!" he asked.

"How did you find this chance?" Alice queried, still a little doubtful as she seated herself in preparation for the experiment.

"Saw an advertisement in the _Star_--' Agents make one hundred to five hundred dollars a week,' it said, and from what the man at the office tells me there isn't any chance to lose--except, perhaps, for the fellow who buys."

"What are the books?" inquired Mrs. Gorham.

"Travel books," Allen answered, promptly; "the _Home Travellers' Volumes_. Great title, isn't it? Of course they're not meant for people who really travel as you do, but for those who stay at home. You'll see in a minute. Are you ready, Mrs. Gorham?"

"All ready," was the reply, as she held the leaflet of instructions where she could follow.

Allen squared himself for his maiden effort.

"I have been requested, Miss Gorham, to give you this beautiful brochure which describes the _Home Travellers' Volumes_. This is one of the many color-plates which adorn the work." Allen skilfully held the pamphlet so that the pictures could be seen. "These wonderful volumes supply to those who cannot leave their homes all the pleasures, benefits, and entertainment of travel in foreign lands. Do I turn a page yet?" Allen appealed to Mrs. Gorham.

"Not yet," she replied. "It says, 'Here open your prospectus and turn to the first color-plate.'"

"But I did that. You saw it, didn't you, Alice? Oh, yes, I remember. You learn how the people get about in different countries and cities; as, for instance, the jinrikisha in Japan." Allen turned the page.

"Did you do that hurriedly?" asked his coach.

"Do what hurriedly?"

"The directions say, 'Turn page hurriedly.'"

"I'll remember that. Now I will show you how Morocco is treated. Great Scott! I've forgotten how many pages to turn! Here it is! Look at it quick, Alice, before I forget the next! The author tells us that the natives have such a hatred for Christians that they refuse to use these splendid bridges. The Moors--"

"Wait," interrupted Mrs. Gorham. "It says here, 'Emphasize the pictures by pointing to the bridges.'"

"All right--consider those bridges pointed to, Alice. The Moors are intellectual mummies." Allen carefully turned two pages, and encouraged by a nod of approval from Mrs. Gorham proceeded. "Why, Miss Gorham, if a Moor happens to sit down upon a tack he doesn't curse or swear or rail at fate; he simply murmurs, 'It is written,' and carefully replaces the tack for some other Moor to sit on."

"It doesn't say that," Alice protested, laughing.

"Well, if it doesn't it ought to," insisted Allen, taking the instruction sheet from Mrs. Gorham's hands to prevent Alice from satisfying her curiosity. "You're not supposed to read the instructions, you know. You are just to sit there entranced while I do this monologue act--you're not even expected to ask questions, as any indiscretion such as that is apt to make the agent lose his cue. Your part comes at the end when I give you a perfectly good little piece of patient paper, which you may spoil any old way you like so long as you sign your name or make your mark--all of which you will discover in due time if you follow the professor closely and learn his habits."

Alice and Eleanor were convulsed with laughter over Allen's antics, but the boy soon sobered down and again assumed his dignified demeanor.

"Please observe, Miss Gorham, these endless aisles of arches which form part of three miles of stables built by Mulai Ismail, the tyrant sultan. He was a superb horseman. It is said that he was able in one graceful movement to mount his steed, draw his sword, and neatly decapitate the slave who held his stirrup--"

"You are reciting that, Allen," Mrs. Gorham broke in.

"I know I am. Isn't that right?"

"No; it says, 'Commit the following to memory absolutely, but appear to read it.'"

"Oh, sorrow! After spending all that time to learn this, I have to spend some more time learning to remember that I have remembered. Isn't it the awful stunt!"

"You're doing beautifully," Alice encouraged, laughing; "but it's a shame to waste it all on an audience of two. Why don't you make a vaudeville turn out of it?"

"There you go asking questions again," protested Allen, "which is strictly forbidden by the rules." The boy wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. "Honestly, you've gotten me so rattled that I don't know whether what comes now is 'low tone' or 'pass the next picture and come back to it.'"