"They tell me you're working. A lawyer's clerk." "I'm Mr. Jarrod's private secretary, sir." "Huh! Good job for a college man, isn't it? Nice investment I made when I sent you to Cornell." Jim wondered what he would say if he knew he had until recently been a dry-goods clerk. "Haven't you had about enough of this two-penny folly?" demanded his father, more harshly. "Oh, I've discovered that I can earn my own living," said the boy, flushing. "That isn't the point. I reared you with the expectation that you would be of some use to me when I grew old and feeble. That time has arrived. I need you to help look after the business. Look here: do you owe nothing to me?" Jim examined the pattern on the rug. "Just as much as I owe myself, sir. Surely not more." "Then pay your obligation to me first, and you can do as you please afterward." "All right. That's fair." His mother, who sat beside him silently holding his hand, hugged him again, and even Mr. Everton seemed pleased by the frank answer. "You jeered at the business once, and called it a--a fake!" resumed the elder man, somewhat bitterly; "but it's nothing of the sort. Every one of the Everton Remedies is prepared according to the formula of a skillful physician, and they've helped lots of suffering people. Is not my name highly respected? Answer me!" "I think it is." "Very well. You shall be my assistant and have an interest in the business. I'll allow you ten thousand a year." "Good!" said Jim, brightening suddenly. "Then I can get married." "Oh, Jim!" cried his mother. "To whom, sir?" asked his father. "Why, to Susie. Perhaps you haven't heard of her. She's a girl I met at Tamawaca." "What's her other name?" "Smith. Susie Smith," dwelling on it lovingly. "Smith! Well, who is she?" "The sweetest girl in all the world, sir." "Bah! Who are her people? Where does she come from?" "I don't know." "Nonsense." "I haven't asked about her family. Why should I, when she's all right herself? She's stopping with Mr. Carleton--W. E. Carleton, the railway contractor. He says he knows you." "Well?" "Susie lives in New York, I think, or some Eastern city. Her mother is dead but her father is still on deck--I'm positive of that, for she often speaks of him." "What does he do?" "Can't imagine, I'm sure." "Jim, you're a fool--a doddering imbecile!" "All right." "Oh, Henry--please don't quarrel!" exclaimed Mrs. Everton, beginning to weep anew. But the invalid was suffering twinges and would not be stayed. "You'll have to give up that girl for good and all," he roared. "Susie Smith! Some cheap stenographer or a paid companion to Mrs. Carleton, I suppose. Some designing hussy who thinks you'll have money, and wants to get her clutches on it. Susie Smith! For heaven's sake, Jim, why can't you have a little sense?" Jim got up, slowly and with a white face.