"Oh," said Tom, still unmoved, as it seemed, "we can do better than that, if you want to pull out. But I made sure you'd rather stay in and hold your job. I've a notion you'd find 'retiring' pretty hard work after so many years spent in the furnace yard." "You're right about that, son; I sure would," agreed Caleb. Then he went back to the main proposition. "What-all makes you restless, Buddy? Is it because Chiawassee and the pipe-makin' ain't big enough for you?" Tom answered promptly and without apparent reserve. "The job's big enough, but I don't want to stay here and yoke up with the Farleys; they'd ruin me in a year." "Get the better of you in the business--is that what you're aimin' to say?" "Not exactly. I'm still brash enough to believe I could hold my own on that score. But--oh, well; you know what we found out last summer about their business methods. I can do business that way, too; as a matter of fact, I did do a good bit more of it last year than you knew anything about. But I'm out of it now, and I mean to stay out." A longer interval of silence followed, and at the end of it another query. "Is that all that's the matter, Buddy?" "No--it isn't," hesitantly. "I'm seventeen other kinds of a fool, too, pappy." "Reckon ye couldn't make out to onload the whole of it on to a pair o' right old shoulders, could ye, son Tom?" was the gentle invitation. "I don't know why I shouldn't tell you. I'm foolish about Ardea; been that way ever since she used to wear frocks and I used to run barefoot. I don't believe I could stand it to stay here and be her husband's business partner." Caleb was shrouding himself in tobacco smoke and nodding complete intelligence. "How did you ever come to let her get away from you, son?" he asked. "That's a large question--too big for me to answer, I'm afraid. I always knew we were meant for each other, and I guess I took too much for granted. Then Vint Farley came along, and I helped his case by pitching into him every time she gave me a chance. Naturally, she leaned the other way; and the European business settled it." Caleb drew a long breath. "Reckon it's everlastin'ly too late now, do ye, Tom?" The young man's smile was wintry. "You said the wedding-day was set, didn't you?" "Why, yes; _toe_ be sure. Leastwise, your mammy talked like it was. But, lawzee, son! the Gordon stock don't lie down in the harness. Ardee thinks a heap o' you, and if you could jest've made out to keep from gettin' so everlastin'ly tangled with that gal o' Tike--" he stopped abruptly, but not quite soon enough, and the word was as the flick of a whip on a wound already made raw by the abrasion of the closed doors. "So that miserable story has got around to you at last, has it?" said Tom, in fine scorn. "I did hope they'd spare you and mother."