The morning was heavy and almost breathless. The smoke of the city hung low in the streets. Henry had passed through a dreamful and uneasy sleep. He thought it wise to remain in his room until the merchant was gone down town, and troublously he had begun to doze again when Ellen's voice aroused him. "Come on down!" she cried, tapping on the door. "You just ought to see what the newspapers have said about you. Everybody in the neighborhood is staring at us. Come on down." Witherspoon was sitting on a sofa with a pile of newspapers beside him. He looked up as Henry entered, and in the expression of his face there was no displeasure to recall the controversy of the night before. "Well, sir," said he, "they have given you a broad spread." The reporters had done their work well. It was a great sensation. Henry was variously described. One report said that he had a dreaminess of eye that was not characteristic of this strong, pragmatic family; another declared him to be "tall, rather handsome, black-bearded, and with the quiet sense of humor that belongs to the temperament of a modest man." One reporter had noticed that his Southern-cut clothes did not fit him. "He might have said something nicer than that," Ellen remarked, with a natural protest against this undue familiarity. "I don't know why we should be spoken of as a pragmatic family," said Mrs. Witherspoon. "Of course your father has always been in business, but I don't see"-- Witherspoon began to grunt. "It's all right," said he. "It's all right." He had to say something. "Come, I must get down town." "Shall I go with you?" Henry asked. For a moment Witherspoon was silent. "Not unless you want to," he answered. They sat down to breakfast. Henry nervously expected another outbreak. The merchant began to say something, but stopped on a half utterance and cleared his throat. "It is coming," Henry thought. "I have studied over our talk of last night," said Witherspoon, "and while I won't say that you may be right, or have any excuse for presuming that you are right, I am inclined to indulge that wild scheme of yours for a while. My impression is that you'll soon get sick of it." Mrs. Witherspoon looked at him thankfully. "And you will give him a chance, father," she said. "Didn't I say I would? Isn't that exactly what I said? Gracious alive, don't make me out a grinding and unyielding monster. We'll look round, Henry, and see what can be done. Brooks may know of some opening. You'd better rest here to-day." "I am deeply grateful, sir, for the concession you have made," Henry replied. "I know how you feel on the subject, and I regret"-- "All right." "Regret that I was forced"-- "I said it was all right." "Forced to oppose you, but I don't think that you'll have cause to feel ashamed of me." "You have already made me feel proud of your manliness," said Witherspoon. Henry bowed, and Mrs. Witherspoon gave her husband an impulsive look of gratitude. The merchant continued: