“Yes. I expect to have my fight with you. It’s the march of progress. Look at old Reuben there and Edward his son. Reuben was a fighter for steam when he was young. Other people thought steam visionary then if they didn’t think it flat blasphemy. But he grew old and he couldn’t rise to railways. Edward brought the railway to Hepplestall’s, right into the factory yard, in the teeth of Reuben’s opposition and when Reuben saw railway trains actually doing what Edward said they would do, carrying cotton in and goods out and coal out from the pit-mouth, he retired. He gave Edward best and went, and Edward lit the factory with gas, made here from his own coal, and Reuben prophesied fire and sudden death and the only death that came was his own. “That portrait is of William, Edward’s son. Their fight was over the London warehouse. William did not see why we sold to London merchants who re-sold to shops; and William had his way, and later quarreled with his son Martin over so small a thing as the telegraph. That was before telephones, and you had an alphabetical switchboard and slowly spelt out sentences on it. William called it a toy, and Martin was right and saved thousands of valuable hours. But I had the honor of telling my father, who was Martin, that he had an intensive mind and that lighting the mills by electricity, and rebuilding on the all-window design to save artificial light and installing lifts and sprinklers (to keep the insurance low) were all very useful economies but they didn’t extend the trade of Hepplestall’s. I went round the world and I established branches in the East. I didn’t see why the Manchester shipping merchants should market Hepplestall’s Shirtings in Shanghai and Calcutta. My father told me I had bitten off more than I could chew, but he let me have the money to try with. Well, there’s your uncle Hubert in charge at Calcutta now, and your uncle Reuben Bleackley at Shanghai, you’ve cousins at Rio and Buenos Aires and Montreal and on the whole I can claim my victory. I wonder,” he looked quizzically at Rupert, “what your victory over me will be? To run our own line of steamers? To work the mills by electricity? I give you warning here and now that I’m against both. Oil--oil’s a possibility; but we needn’t go into those things now. “I hope I shall never oppose you, sir,” said Rupert.