"Noticed that already, have you? Well, I'm holding my own, Boyee. Up to
date, old age hasn't scratched me with his claws to any noticeable
extent--is that the way it goes?--see 'Familiar Quotations.' I'm getting
to be a regular book-worm, Hal. Shakespeare, R.L.S., Kipling, Arnold
Bennett, Hall Caine--all the high-brows. And I _get_ 'em, too. Soak 'em
right in. I love it! Tell me, who's this Balzac? An agent was in
yesterday trying to make me believe that he invented culture. What about
him? I'm pretty hot on the culture trail. Look out, or I'll overhaul
you."
"You won't have to go very far or fast. I've got only smatterings." But
the boy spoke with a subdued complacency not wholly lost upon the shrewd
father.
"Not so much that you'll think Worthington dull and provincial?"
"Oh, I dare say I shall find it a very decent little place."
But here Hal touched another pride and loyalty, quite as genuine as that
which Dr. Surtaine felt for his son.
"Little place!" he cried. "Two hundred thousand of the livest people on
God's earth. A gen-u-wine American city if there ever was one."
"Evidently it suits you, sir."
"Couldn't suit better if I'd had it made to order," chuckled the Doctor.
"And I did pretty near make it over to order. It was a dead-and-alive
town when we opened up here. Didn't care much about my business, either.
Now we're the biggest thing in town. Why Certina is the cross-mark that
shows where Worthington is on the map. The business is sim-plee
BOOMING." The word exploded in rapture. "Nothing like it ever known in
the proprietary trade. Wait till you see the shop."
"That will be soon, won't it, sir? I think I've loafed quite long
enough."
"You're only twenty-five," his father defended him. "It isn't as if
you'd been idling. Your four years abroad have been just so much
capital. Educational capital, I mean. I've got plenty of the other kind,
for both of us. You don't need to go into the business unless you want
to."
"Being an American, I suppose I've got to go to work at something."
"Not necessarily."
"You don't want me to live on you all my life, though, I suppose."
"Well, I don't want you to want me to want you to," returned the other,
laughing. "But there's no hurry."
"To tell the truth, I'm rather bored with doing nothing. And if I can be
of any use to you in the business--"
"You're ready to resume the partnership," his father concluded the
sentence for him. "That was the foundation of it all; the old days when
I did the 'spieling' and you took in the dollars. How quick your little
hands were! Can you remember it? The smelly smoke of the torches, and
the shadows chasing each other across the crowds below. And to think
what has grown out of it. God, Boyee! It's a miracle," he exulted.
"It isn't very clear in my memory. I used to get pretty sleepy, I
remember," said the son, smiling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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