“Oh, no! It’s not that!” Shepherd hastily corrected. “Of course that’s all settled. This is quite a different matter. I only want to suggest it now so you can think it over. You see, our employees were all mightily pleased because you let them have the use of the Milton farm. There’s quite a settlement grown up around the plant and the Milton land is so near they can walk to it. I’ve kept tab this summer and about a hundred of the men go there Saturday afternoons and Sundays; mostly married men who take their families. I could see it made a big difference in the morale of the shop.” He paused to watch the effect of his statements, but Mills made no sign. He merely recrossed his legs, knocked the ash from his cigarette and nodded for his son to go on. “I want you to know I appreciate your letting me use the property that way,” Shepherd resumed. “I was out there a good deal myself, and those people certainly enjoyed themselves. Now what’s in my mind is this, father”--he paused an instant and bent forward with boyish eagerness--“I’ve heard you say you didn’t mean to sell any lots in the Milton addition for several years--not until the street car line’s extended--and I thought since the factory’s so close to the farm, we might build some kind of a clubhouse the people could use the year round. They can’t get any amusements without coming into town, and we could build the house near the south gate of the property, where our people could get to it easily. They could have dances and motion pictures, and maybe a few lectures and some concerts, during the winter. They’ll attend to all that themselves. Please understand that I don’t mean this as a permanent thing. The clubhouse needn’t cost much, so when you get ready to divide the farm the loss wouldn’t be great. It might even be used in some way. I just wanted to mention it; we can talk out the details after you’ve thought it over.” In his anxiety to make himself clear Shepherd had stammered repeatedly. He waited, his face flushed, his eyelids quivering, for some encouraging word from his father. Mills dropped his cigarette into the tray before he spoke. “What would such a house cost, Shep?” “It can be built for twenty thousand dollars. I got a young fellow in Freeman’s office to make me some sketches--Storrs--you met him at the country club; a mighty nice chap. If you’ll just look at these----” Mills took the two letter sheets his son extended, one showing a floor plan, the other a rough sketch of the proposed building, inspected them indifferently and gave them back. “If you’d like to keep them----” Shepherd began.