“No, sir. We didn't think so very much about it. Well, that's not quite true. Madeline felt that her mother--and you, too, sir, I suppose, although she didn't speak as often of you in that way--she felt that her mother would disapprove at first, and so we had better wait.” “Until when?” “Until--until by and by. Until I had gone ahead further, you know.” “I'm not sure that I do know. Gone ahead how? Until you had a better position, more salary?” “No, not exactly. Until my writings were better known. Until I was a little more successful.” “Successful? Until you wrote more poetry, do you mean?” “Yes, sir. Poetry and other things, stories and plays, perhaps.” “Do you mean--Did you figure that you and Madeline were to live on what you made by writing poetry and the other stuff?” “Yes, sir, of course.” Fosdick looked across at Captain Zelotes. The Captain's face was worth looking at. “Here, here, hold on!” he exclaimed, jumping into the conversation. “Al, what are you talkin' about? You're bookkeeper for me, ain't you; for this concern right here where you are? What do you mean by talkin' as if your job was makin' up poetry pieces? That's only what you do on the side, and you know it. Eh, ain't that so?” Albert hesitated. He had, momentarily, forgotten his grandfather and the latter's prejudices. After all, what was the use of stirring up additional trouble. “Yes, Grandfather,” he said. “Course it's so. It's in this office that you draw your wages.” “Yes, Grandfather.” “All right. Excuse me for nosin' in, Mr. Fosdick, but I knew the boy wasn't puttin' the thing as plain as it ought to be, and I didn't want you to get the wrong notion. Heave ahead.” Fosdick smiled slightly. “All right, Captain,” he said. “I get it, I think. Well, then,” turning again to Albert, “your plan for supporting my daughter was to wait until your position here, plus the poetry, should bring in sufficient revenue. It didn't occur to you that--well, that there might be a possibility of getting money--elsewhere?” Albert plainly did not understand, but it was just as plain that his grandfather did. Captain Zelotes spoke sharply. “Mr. Fosdick,” he said, “I just answered that question for you.” “Yes, I know. But if you were in my place you might like to have him answer it. I don't mean to be offensive, but business is business, and, after all, this is a business talk. So--” The Captain interrupted. “So we'll talk it in a business way, eh?” he snapped. “All right. Al, what Mr. Fosdick means is had you cal'lated that, if you married his daughter, maybe her dad's money might help you and her to keep goin'? To put it even plainer: had you planned some on her bein' a rich girl?” Fosdick looked annoyed. “Oh, I say, Snow!” he cried. “That's too strong, altogether.” “Not a mite. It's what you've had in the back of your head all along. I'm just helpin' it to come out of the front. Well, Al?” The red spots were burning in the Speranza cheeks. He choked as he answered.