“But, dad, suppose I don’t take either?” The old man’s face changed; his eyes grew anxious; the hand that held the bonds trembled ever so little. “You wouldn’t do that to me, son. Ever since that night twenty-eight years ago when I heard a miserable squawkin’ sound up-stairs and mistrusted it was you, I’ve been workin’ and plannin’ and hopin’—with you as the object of it all. I wanted to fix things for you, son—and I’ve done it. You don’t need to take the business if you don’t want to. Your ma and me can keep on like we’ve been goin’, and have consid’able fun, too. But if you was to refuse both, then I’d feel as if I’d sort of wasted my time—as if my workin’ and livin’ hadn’t been for no good at all. You—you wouldn’t do that to your dad, would you, son?” Young Jim walked to the window and stood looking out, and as he looked out he reviewed his own plans and scheme of life, his hopes and private aspirations. Presently he turned: “No, dad, I won’t refuse both. I’ll take one or the other.” Clothespin Jimmy’s face showed his relief. “Much ’bliged, son,” he said, as though he were accepting a notable favor instead of giving away what folks not addicted to polo or divorces or Fifth Avenue or ocean-going yachts would consider a fortune. Jim returned to his window; his father sat thumbing the bonds and waiting. Presently the old man spoke suddenly: “I don’t want you tradin’ unsight-unseen. You’re entitled to know what you’re up against. In case you take the mill—I milked it for these bonds. I told you that. The business will need this money and need it bad. I’ve built big. The day the mill starts runnin’ you h’ist a debt of seventy thousand dollars onto your shoulder. You’ll be pinched for money, and you’ll have a devil of a time. But I could pull it through—and so can you if you’re any good. You ain’t steppin’ into a snap—not by several statute miles. Furthermore, if you take her you take her for better or for worse. You git no help from me. These bonds’ll be all I have, and I’ll need ’em. I won’t let loose of one of ’em to keep you out of bankruptcy. Understand?” “Yes,” said Jim. “Got your mind made up?” “I’d rather sleep on it, dad. Suppose we put it off till to-morrow.” “If you’re the man to handle the job you can decide now. Puttin’ off never helped matters. A man that makes up his mind right off may be wrong half the time, but he’s right a whole lot more than the fellow who has to have a decision jerked out of him with an ox-team. If you expect to get anywheres in this world, learn to make up your mind swift and follow up with swift action. We’ll finish the deal now before quittin’-time.”