"Hello, Dad!"
After the attorney's departure, Gilder had been rather fussily going over some of the papers on his desk.He was experiencing a vague feeling of injury on account of the lawyer's ill-veiled efforts to arouse his sympathy in behalf of the accused girl.In the instinct of strengthening himself against the possibility of yielding to what he deemed weakness, the magnate rehearsed the facts that justified his intolerance, and, indeed, soon came to gloating over the admirable manner in which righteousness thrives in the world.And it was then that an interruption came in the utterance of two words, words of affection, of love, cried out in the one voice he most longed to hear--for the voice was that of his son.Yet, he did not look up.The thing was altogether impossible! The boy was philandering, junketing, somewhere on the Riviera.His first intimation as to the exact place would come in the form of a cable asking for money.Somehow, his feelings had been unduly stirred that morning; he had grown sentimental, dreaming of pleasant things....All this in a second.Then, he looked up.Why, it was true! It was ****'s face there, smiling in the doorway.Yes, it was ****, it was **** himself! Gilder sprang to his feet, his face suddenly grown younger, radiant.
"****!" The big voice was softened to exquisite tenderness.
As the eyes of the two met, the boy rushed forward, and in the next moment the hands of father and son clasped firmly.They were silent in the first emotion of their greeting.Presently, Gilder spoke, with an effort toward harshness in his voice to mask how much he was shaken.But the tones rang more kindly than any he had used for many a day, tremulous with affection.
"What brought you back?" he demanded.
****, too, had felt the tension of an emotion far beyond that of the usual things.He was forced to clear his throat before he answered with that assumption of nonchalance which he regarded as befitting the occasion.
"Why, I just wanted to come back home," he said; lightly.Asudden recollection came to give him poise in this time of emotional disturbance, and he added hastily: "And, for the love of heaven, give Sadie five dollars.I borrowed it from her to pay the taxi'.You see, Dad, I'm broke.""Of course!" With the saying, Edward Gilder roared Gargantuan laughter.In the burst of merriment, his pent feelings found their vent.He was still chuckling when he spoke, sage from much experience of ocean travel."Poker on the ship, I suppose."The young man, too, smiled reminiscently as he answered:
"No, not that, though I did have a little run in at Monte Carlo.
But it was the ship that finished me, at that.You see, Dad, they hired Captain Kidd and a bunch of pirates as stewards, and what they did to little Richard was something fierce.And yet, that wasn't the real trouble, either.The fact is, I just naturally went broke.Not a hard thing to do on the other side.""Nor on this," the father interjected, dryly.
"Anyhow, it doesn't matter much," **** replied, quite unabashed.
"Tell me, Dad, how goes it?"
Gilder settled himself again in his chair, and gazed benignantly on his son.
"Pretty well," he said contentedly; "pretty well, son.I'm glad to see you home again, my boy." There was a great tenderness in the usually rather cold gray eyes.
The young man answered promptly, with delight in his manner of speech, and a sincerity that revealed the underlying merit of his nature.
"And I'm glad to be home, Dad, to be"--there was again that clearing of the throat, but he finished bravely--"with you."The father avoided a threatening display of emotion by an abrupt change of subject to the trite.
"Have a good time?" he inquired casually, while fumbling with the papers on the desk.
****'s face broke in a smile of reminiscent happiness.
"The time of my young life!" He paused, and the smile broadened.
There was a mighty enthusiasm in his voice as he continued: "Itell you, Dad, it's a fact that I did almost break the bank at Monte Carlo.I'd have done it sure, if only my money had held out.""It seems to me that I've heard something of the sort before,"was Gilder's caustic comment.But his smile was still wholly sympathetic.He took a curious vicarious delight in the escapades of his son, probably because he himself had committed no follies in his callow days."Why didn't you cable me?" he asked, puzzled at such restraint on the part of his son.
**** answered with ****** sincerity.
"Because it gave me a capital excuse for coming home."It was Sarah who afforded a diversion.She had known **** while he was yet a child, had bought him candy, had felt toward him a maternal liking that increased rather than diminished as he grew to manhood.Now, her face lighted at sight of him, and she smiled a welcome.
"I see you have found him," she said, with a ripple of laughter.
**** welcomed this interruption of the graver mood.
"Sadie," he said, with a manner of the utmost seriousness, "you are looking finer than ever.And how thin you have grown!"The girl, eager with fond fancies toward the slender ideal, accepted the compliment literally.
"Oh, Mr.****!" she exclaimed, rapturously."How much do you think I have lost?"The whimsical heir of the house of Gilder surveyed his victim critically, then spoke with judicial solemnity.
"About two ounces, Sadie."
There came a look of deep hurt on Sadie's face at the flippant jest, which **** himself was quick to note.
He had not guessed she was thus acutely sensitive concerning her plumpness.Instantly, he was all contrition over his unwitting offense inflicted on her womanly vanity.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Sadie," he exclaimed penitently."Please don't be really angry with me.Of course, I didn't mean----""To twit on facts!" the secretary interrupted, bitterly.
